Stirring slowly from my sleep, I open my eyes very slightly to shield myself from the blinding sun pouring in through the window. The room is filled with shining rays of light, heating the tip of my nose where the sun misses it.

In the morning light, my hair is a glowing, tangled shade of red. I faintly run my tiny fingers across the vibrant strands, and I consider dying it once again as the violently red color sends a wave of irritation through me. It's an unnaturally bright color, despite being wholly natural, one I've been teased for since I had first grown it as a toddler.

I'll ask Clay when he wakes up. I think, and silently curse myself for being constantly unable to make my own decisions, and for being perpetually insecure.

A curious peek under the covers tells me exactly what I already knew. Circular, purple bruises stretch across the otherwise milky skin on my hips. I should be concerned, but the sight causes a flustered blush to bloom in my cheeks.

Why am I so into this?

Though my back is turned to Clay, I can feel his heartbeat, slow and steady on my shoulder. His left hand stretches languidly across my waist, and our fingers are closely intertwined. His other hand is limp in mine as he remains in a deep sleep, eyes fluttered to a close and face adorably peaceful.

My heart fills with affection as I lay in Clay's sleeping arms, wrapped in an old t-shirt of his. Deep warmth and coziness blazes like a fire in my chest, and I never want to leave this snug comfort.

Knowing I won't be able to fall back asleep, I use my free hand to wipe away the old mascara and rub my eyes. I smooth out my hair as I hear Clay's heartbeat slowly pick up, signaling he was nearly awake.

An alarm clock next to me flashes "9:45." I start to panic, but then I remember that today is a weekend, and I snuggle deeper into Clay's arms. He's close to being fully awake, and I feel his arm muscles tighten around me as he arises out of his slumber.

"Ellie?" a voice in my ear makes me jump slightly.

His voice is low and husky as he lifts his head off the pillow to look at me. He's a little delirious, but fully awake now with his face resting in the crook of my neck. I decide right then and there that his morning voice is of my favorite part about him.

"Good morning!" I chirp, a sudden burst of energy coursing through me. I blame the ADHD. Turning over to face Clay, I kiss the tip of his nose and he smiles at me. "Let's get breakfast."

"Where?" Clay asks, looking at me with a happy, smitten gaze.

Thinking for a moment, I smile at him. "Rosie's. And let's actually get there this time."

I deliberately make humor out of that day, because I know that it hurt both of us to hear Hannah's voice again on a stereo, especially since it was my tape playing. I can't tell if Clay thinks about Hannah or not, even when I'm watching his face so intensely, for he quickly pushes himself out of the sheets to pull his famous hoodie over his shoulders.

"Sounds good," he says nonchalantly.

Choosing to ignore my doubts on his true feelings, I move to climb out of bed before remembering I am still completely naked under his t-shirt.

A painful yet deep shred of insecurity keeps me from jumping out the way I used to be able to, before the Clubhouse. Pushing it out of my mind, I emit a small grunt of effort as I wrap the blankets tighter around my body to search for my backpack. I pull my change of leggings out of my bag and rapidly throw them on, growls of hunger rumbling in my stomach.

"I'll drive," I say when Clay reaches for his keys on his dresser. He nods and put his hands in his pockets while I hurriedly tie my shoes.

Throwing my backpack over my shoulder, I put my foot on the windowsill and prepare to roll out onto the roof. I hear Clay stammer and struggle for words behind me, and turn to see him looking puzzled.

"What is it?" I ask him, regretting the sharpness of my voice and making up for it with a smile.

"Why are you doing that?" he says, tilting his head like a confused puppy.

"Doing what?" I say awkwardly, one foot out of his window.

His hand rubs at the back of his neck, clearly a sign of nervousness. "You don't want to just like... walk downstairs with me?" I look curiously at him and he shifts on the spot, obviously uncomfortable. "For safety reasons... of course."

"Dude." I retract my foot from the windowsill. "Your family's downstairs."

"I know," he says quietly. My heart drops into my stomach; he clearly wants me to meet his parents.

I walk over to him and cup his face in my hands, an intense sympathy blazing in my chest.

"This is nothing to do with your family, but I can't go downstairs. If you want, I can meet them some other time..." I wince, instantly regretting saying that, but power through. "It's just... I don't want my first impression on your parents to be sneaking out of your room, especially after what we did last night."

Clay blushes and I smile at him.

"That makes sense, I guess." He draws circles on the top of my hand with his finger, and his face melts into a content look of understanding.

"How about you go downstairs so your parents don't get suspicious, and I'll go out the window?" I say in an authoritative voice. "I'll meet me at the car in five, okay?"

"Okay."

Turning back to the window, I leave my fingers connected with his for a second longer.

He tugs suddenly on my hand, spinning me into his chest. I suppress a gasp of surprise as he deeply kisses me, his hands pressing at my waist. It's soft and sweet, unlike what I had experienced last night, though both bring me a happiness and pleasure I haven't felt in my life.

I back away once I've run out of breath.

"Last one, Ellie," he whispers quietly, "please." And then he reconnects our lips, intertwining his fingers with mine.

I smile once it's over and place my lips sweetly on his cheek before turning to climb onto the sunlit roof. Trying not to slip, I calculate my distance and take a deep breath.

Swinging myself around to grasp my hands around the ledge, I fight panic as my legs hang off the edge. My body braces for impact, drops off the ledge, and absorbs the fall with my knees.

"Shit, that hurt," I curse quietly, bursting dust off my leggings and jogging to my car.

The sound of a door opening sends my legs into overdrive, now running to reach the car before I'm seen. I scramble to the side of the car, crouching to peer over the top.

Clay's blue eyes meet mine, startled, as he sees me huddle beside the vehicle. "Ellie?" His voice is way too loud, and his eyes widened with surprise.

"Get in the car!" I hardly whisper, though the volume is as loud as a yell.

He bites back a smile and turns over his shoulder to check the door, jumping inside the passenger seat when he sees no movement from the house. I climb in the drivers seat, throwing the car into drive and steering dangerously fast out of the driveway.

He instinctively grabs the door handle while I break at least four different laws driving down the street. I really am a terrible driver — If we were in an action movie, there would be the sound of cats screeching and a fleet of police cars behind us.

Miraculously, we arrive at Rosie's diner alive and I sloppily jerk the car into a parking space. Beside me, Clay keels over in his seat, taking heaving breaths to calm himself down. I wince; my driving skills are not particularly renowned.

"You good?" I ask, putting a hand on his shoulder and hating myself for my terrible driving.

His heaves melt into laughter and a great, pearly smile spreads across his face.

"Holy shit! That was so fucking fast!" Clay bursts out with a voice of pure delight, bouncing up and down in his seat like an excited toddler.

We climb out of the car, both of us grinning stupidly. He practically skips to the diner, holding my hand and swinging it as he walks.

A flash of fear strikes through me and I turn my head wildly about, thinking about someone seeing us here, and the memory of the photo pops back into my brain.

Someone had taken a Snapchat of Clay and I in my car the first night we had been together. I was sitting in his lap with my hands in his hair, passionately kissing him. His hands were at my waist, and hickeys were marked up and down both our necks. We were both shirtless, and our faces each very distinctive, so there was no way of denying it.

I can't even begin to think about how many accounts that image has been through by now, or the sheer amount of people who've seen it. To my knowledge, Clay doesn't know it exists yet, and my heart breaks thinking about how things will be when we go back to school.

The boys are going to tear him apart, I think as guilt claws at my stomach. They're going to destroy him, and it's all your fault. He's gonna get hurt all because you can't keep your fucking pants on.

My thoughts are whisked quickly out of my head as Clay opens the doors to the diner with his free hand, signaling to the waitress for a table. He lets me in before sitting down, and the guilt only grows as I think of how I don't deserve him.

"This place is so great, we should get the cheese fries. The milkshakes here are so good, you wouldn't even believe it. Do you have any allergies or anything you can't eat?" Clay looks up, expecting an answer only to find my crestfallen face. "Hey, you alright?"

My hands are sweaty from being clasped together as I anxiously tap them on the table. "I'm fine." I look at him and force a smile.

"Ellie?" Clay sets the menu down on the table and brings his eyes down to meet mine. "Something is wrong, I can help if you tell me."

His eyes, normally a piercingly blue, are now a warm, kind gaze that makes me feel instantly better.

A lump in my throat that had been forming suddenly unfolds and I find the courage to finally tell him. I reach for my phone in my backpack, open it, and throw it on the table with a bit lip.

"Okay, I'm just gonna say it. Um — Someone took a picture of us that night that we, um, got together. I — I don't know what to do."

I bring my hands up to my mouth in an attempt to subdue the anxiety mounting in my chest.

Clay reaches for the phone and stops, glancing up at me for silent permission. I nod and he gently slides the phone across to his side of the table. He studies it for a minute before reconnecting eye contact.

"Do you know who took this?" His voice is soft with a reassuring tone behind it, but his eyes betray how he's really feeling. They're steely and calculated, his gaze rapidly flickering around the room in thought.

"No," I whisper, my voice cracking.

In this moment, I'm slightly afraid of Clay. His hands clench, with his knuckles turning white as his nails dig into his palm. His arms are tense and his jaw is locked. His entire manner screams anger, and I shift uncomfortably in my seat.

The look in his eyes, how hard and cruel they are, remind me painfully of how Bryce's eyes were that night at the Clubhouse when he threw my exposed body into the cold, dead grass. All the warmth and tenderness I had seen only moments before were gone, and I could almost hear the thoughts going through my brain screaming at me.

Noticing my tense body language, Clay softens and he reaches out to interlock our fingers. I flinch a little and his eyebrows furrow.

"If you know who took this, I'll talk to them."

I shake my head violently, and he looks away, visibly furious.

"It doesn't say who took it." My voice is quiet as I stare down at my lap.

I can't tell him, even if I knew who took it in the first place. Deep down, no matter how I feel for Clay, I know that I don't want to push him when he's like this. I can't predict what he'll do.

"Hey, Ellie," Clay says quietly, "you don't have to worry. I understand if you don't want me to say anything. Just let me know how you feel, please."

The feeling of fear in my chest melts as the steely look in his eyes fades into reassuring affection. While fear dissolves itself, a heavy guilt weighs deeper in my stomach.

Tears spring to my eyes and I can't stop myself from exploding. "It's all my fault! I brought you into this, just because I couldn't control myself or how I felt about you."

My hands are flying around as I pour my heart out, and Clay forces his look of surprise into a kind understanding.

"And to think! After all my parents have been through with Jeff and after what you have had to go through with the tapes, I've been sleeping around like a whore!"

People are beginning to stare and Clay gazes at me with compassion with a slight flicker of fear as I go on, not caring.

"I haven't slept at my house in four days, Clay. I crashed at my friends for the first day, I slept with you the second day, slept in my car on the third, and then again with you on the fourth day! A- an- and Hannah."

My voice breaks and I take a collective breath as Clay flinches at her name. I continue my ranting, unable to stop even as tears form at the edge of his eyes.

"She loved you and you loved her, and I'm the slut who stole you away from her, and I fucking killed her. I'm the villain in the movie here. A girl died because I couldn't keep it in my fucking pants! Cause I wanted to chase a boy instead of being a good friend. She was such a great person, and I let her life go for a crush."

I finish, throwing myself against the back of my seat as silence fills the diner. Only the hum of the kitchen breaks the quiet as Clay stares at the table. We sit still for what feels like hours while people move on from my outburst, the volume resuming and the tension slowly fading.

With a huff of breath, he pushes himself out of his seat and comes over to sit beside me. I try my best not to start crying again as he pulls me into a hug, drawing circles on my spine. My arms are circled around his neck and my head is pushed deep into his shoulder.

"Ellie," he mutters quietly, disconnecting our bodies but keeping contact by holding my hand and staying close to me. "You are not a terrible person. You are an amazing human being, and I never in a million years could think Hannah's death was close to your fault. What happened to you, at the Clubhouse" — I flinch — "it changes people, but you've been so strong. You've made me feel like so much more than I am, and I don't hold back any more, because of you, Ellie."

Clay kisses my forehead as hot tears fall down my face.

"That's why Hannah and I never happened. I was too scared, but I'm not with you. And I don't want you to think you're a slut just for having feelings. You don't have to hide them anymore, and I think that makes you the strongest person I know. You are so smart, brave, and incredibly, drop-dead, astoundingly, beautiful."

My body continues to tremble, even when my tears stop falling.

"Come here," he whispers, opening his arms as I crash into his chest again. My hands are shaking but the heavy weight of guilt starts to grow lighter until I have to search within to feel it again.

The distant clanking of plates and silverware, voices chattering happily, and the sounds of our breathing dissolve into a faint white noise as warmth spreads into my body. In this moment, sitting still in time as the world revolves around us, I never want to leave.