I didn't have a car here, but the one thing Juliet Grayson could do was a long walk. I went back into my room and changed into spy gear; by spy gear, I meant some black leggings and my black lululemon align jacket. I put my hair in a ponytail but left my makeup on because it was too pretty to take off.

The location wasn't too far away, so I start my walk at 230am and arrive at 315. Once I get there, I realize how bad my idea was. I thought maybe I would be showing up at a bar where older men would be drinking. This was entirely different.

It seemed to be some sort of casino, but not a normal one; something told me there wasn't a lot of legal betting going on here. I walk in and get some weird looks because of my outfit. However, since it is Halloween and everyone was drunk, nobody bothers me.

The place was crowded, most of the girls are in elaborate costumes, but the men are, of course, doing the bare minimum as usual in T-shirts and jeans. Each table has a different game going on, while some were just drinking and yelling.

I look for Warner, and once I do, I recognize that he is with two of the guys from the bar. Another man sits at the table, one I would recognize anywhere—Warner's father.

The group speaks in hushed whispers, and Warner's eyes give nothing away. His arms are crossed, but as if he can feel my presence, he meets my gaze, and I know this was a mistake.

Warner looks infuriated and is walking straight toward me.

The crowd parts for him as he stalks toward me, immediately quieting at the sight of him fuming. All eyes follow his gaze and eventually land on me.

I want to curl up and die.

When he reaches me, he firmly places his hand on the small of my back and pulls me toward him, guiding me away from the crowd. As we walk away from the gaping swarms of people, he leans down.

"What the fuck are you doing here, Juliet?" His eyes are blazing darkly. He looms over me, almost pressing me against him.

"Are you fucking stalking me? Are you out of your goddamn mind?" He breathes out, taking his eyes off me to collect his thoughts and calm down. "Do you know the kinds of people here? What the guys here would do to a girl like you?"

I step back, insulted and angered by his tone and the implication of what he's saying. A girl like me? What does that mean? I straighten and stand on my tiptoes, trying to look him in the eyes. "Sorry for being worried about you. You don't have a right to talk to me like this."

"Well, when you follow me to an illegal betting site, blissfully unaware of the danger you're putting yourself in. Do you know what it would fucking do to me knowing you got hurt because of me?" He says, raising his voice. I don't let myself think about his last comment about him caring about me.

"No, Warner. You lied to me; I knew something was wrong, so I came to see. You don't get to spin this around on me. If you just told me the truth in the first place, I wouldn't have come."

"I didn't tell you for a reason, now leave" His green eyes have hardened, and he scans over the curious crowd before focusing back on me.

I don't answer, I search his eyes for the guy who gave me that dress earlier today, but his eyes have gained a far-off look.

"Leave." I don't know what was worse, having him tell me to leave or the fact that every single person in the room knew he was kicking me out. This was so embarrassing.

I harden my own gaze, zeroing in on his stoney expression. My throat burns with every fiery word I want to throw in his face. But it's not worth it. I just want to go home and get away from him.

I walk outside and look frantically for my phone in my pocket, but I can't find it, and I begin to panic, knowing I am miles from campus and my phone was what I used for directions.

I am thinking of an emergency plan when I feel hands on my back. I whip around, coming face-to-face with the man at Warner's table from earlier. I swat his hands away, suddenly feeling afraid and disgusted at the same time.

"You know what they say, girlie." He licks his lips slowly. "One man's trash is another man's treasure. How bout you let me show you how a real man can treat a little lady like you?"

I back away until my back hits a tree. "Not interested." Despite my show of confidence, I put on; I'm scared shitless. We're outside and not close enough to any windows so that anyone can see us unless they try to. And I doubt anyone is tempted to check on me.

I open my mouth, ready to scream for help, but his sweaty hands are slapped over my mouth before I can make a sound. His eyes darkened, squinting with desire, and before I can escape, he's trapped me with his body, rubbing against me painfully.

"You're such a tease, don't come into a place like this if you're not gonna--"

I knee him hard in his pathetic little nuts, and he stumbles backward. He curls up around his precious parts and starts groaning. I think about his gross hands on me and I. See. Red.

Something inside me snaps, channelling all my pent-up aggression and conflicting emotions into pure ass-beating rage. I'm on autopilot, moving my limbs and hardly thinking about it. In my mind, all my past and current bullies' voices merge to form a tangle of belittling and insulting.

I'm not thinking straight, and by the time I gain control back, he's leaning desperately against the tree, bleeding and writhing from my brutal assault. Without any plan at all, I turn to run far away, but a large figure stomps into the dark carnage, stopping me in my tracks.

Without a word, Warner takes the guy by his weak shoulders and decks him across his already-broken face. I start walking up to them, prepared to tell Warner that I don't need his help, but he keeps going.

Punch after furious punch; Warner reduces the man to a heap of blood and flesh on the ground. He doesn't stop there, continuing to kick the defenceless body with all his might. The swiftness and sureness of his violent movements are terrifying.

He's going to kill this guy if I don't do something.

I walk up and shove Warner back with all my capable force, barely knocking him back at all. He tries to get around my body, but I barricade him from the man. I put my hands on both sides of his face, forcing him to look at me. For a moment, I've forgotten the words we'd exchanged earlier, and all that matters is getting through to him.

"Warner. Stop!" I plead, willing him to look at me. I try pulling him back, but he easily wrenches out of my grip. I try to get in his line of sight. Looking at him, I see that his eyes maintain that ferocious fire, and I fear that he's really lost control of himself.

He looks at me with his fist raised, prepared to land another punch. But his electric eyes connect with mine, and recognition floods his expression. He freezes, breathing heavily and staring down at me. I hope that he sees the desperation in my eyes, that he hears the desperation in my voice.

Then I remember the way he dismissed me, and I back away. His eyes are still glued to me, and I can tell he's about to say something.

Then we hear police sirens wailing and growing louder by the second. Warner's expression changes to something resembling panic, and he grabs my hand. "We gotta get out of here. NOW."

I want to rip my hand from his grip, but the sirens are painfully loud now, and I know what will happen to me if I stay. He tugs me in the direction of where his car is, and I run alongside him, hand still woven in his. We finally reach his car, I do as he says and get in, barely closing my door before he's racing off.

Warner tenses beside me. His knuckles are covered in blood and clutching the steering wheel. "You're buckled in, right?" He asks tensely.

I nod, unable to speak through my panic. Before I know it, my head is pressed against the seat, and the road is nothing but a moving blur beside me. We're flying at an unbelievably high speed, and my heart is racing at a million beats per second.

Then I look toward Warner, his dark eyes trained on the road and his lip caught slightly between his teeth in concentration, and the fear seems to disappear.

After getting a good distance from the place, he rested his head back on the seat, sighing lowly. "Jules, I didn't m--"

"Just...please. Please take me back to the dorms. I want to forget everything about tonight. I'm sorry for following you; trust me, I won't make the mistake of caring about you again." I blink fast, holding the tears that I know will come.

He's silent. I don't feel bad.

"I was doing it for your own good. Did you not see the guy we left by that tree?" He has his gaze low on the road, not able to make eye contact with me. That guy was a creep, and deep down, I knew Warner was right, and I was too stubborn to admit it.

What I really wanted to say was that it hurt having him dismiss me like that. It hurt that he wouldn't let me in and trust me to know about the stuff with his dad. I wanted to be someone he confided in, not just someone he flirted and joked with. I wanted him to care about me as much as I cared about him.

"Stop the car. I can't stand this anymore."

"Jules. Stop You don't have--"

"You don't get to call me that. Pull over the damn car," I demand, unbuckling my seatbelt and putting my hand over the door handle. "Pull over or I'll jump out right now."

He pulls over quickly, not taking the risk of calling my bluff. It's cold, and I become very aware of my lack of a real jacket; my spy gear was more for aesthetics than for warmth. I'm forced to warm my hands up under my arms while walking quickly. I can't imagine what I look like, speed-walking angrily down an empty road in all black, my face twisted with frustration. This is the second time I have chosen to walk back this month instead of staying in the car with Warner. I expect him to drive away like he did last time, but he doesn't.

I try to ignore the heavy approaching footsteps and the fact that Warner's car hasn't left yet. I'm drained and I know I wouldn't survive another stand-off with him.

Prepared for him to give up and leave me in the dust eventually, I keep walking. I don't expect his warm hand to reach out to me, grazing my waist gently with the back of his hand. Even more so, I don't expect his hand to immediately flinch back from the contact as if touching me sent shocks of fire up his hand and arm.

I Ignore the sparks flying up on my own body from the contact. Concerned I turn back to him and see him holding his right hand in the other as if hiding a wound. Even in the dark, I make out the obvious streaks of blood on his hand. He's hurt.

But I don't care.

I look over my shoulder at him for a second, hating that I'm worried about his stupid face. In the dark, I can see there's a deep cut on his right hand, which is now bleeding profusely. I can barely make it out in the darkness but it looks pretty deep.

I turn around and start walking again, wondering if I can escape the infuriating mix of emotions he ignites in me by just leaving him in the dust. "Just leave alone," I yell out, hoping he takes the hint.

When I hear footsteps behind me once more, I almost groan out loud. I whip around, ready to physically keep him away from me, when I see that he's a few feet behind me, holding his hands up in surrender. Blood still coats his skin, now dropping on his forearm and gleaming in the night.

"Just get back in your car and let me walk."

Thankfully, he doesn't make any moves toward me. He just stands there, staring at me. I can see the moonlight reflecting on his face from where I'm standing, making it almost look as if he's sad. My eyes play tricks on me and almost convince me that he holds regret in that intense gaze of his.

When he finally speaks, the words he says hold that exact emotion. "At least let me take you home, Juliet. I can't leave you out here."

After quite a lengthy stand-off, I nod and we spend the rest of the ride home in silence. The cuts on his hand get blood all over the wheel of his car as well as his shirt and pants. It takes everything in me to not feel bad.

We walk back to our floor in silence, he is dripping blood on the floor but I don't care. I walk to my room without a single glance in his direction. I couldn't possibly sleep tonight, I knew the real root of my anger wasn't even at Warner it was at myself.

Thirty minutes have passed and I am about to get up and knock at Warner's door but there is a knock at mine instead. Warner is at the door and he has bandaged up his hand.

We sit on my bed but leave a large gap between us.

"I needed you to leave and I only knew one way to do it. You don't know the type of people to go to those things, the things they'll do for money. I couldn't stand..."

He didn't finish his sentence, I assumed he was thinking of the guy he beat up tonight. Or more so I beat up and then he finished him, because can I just say I totally had that handled on my own.

"I am trying to be a better person but I am just so fucked up." He puts his head in his bandaged bloody hand.

All I wanted was for him to open up to me, and now that he is, I am scared. I don't think I can handle seeing him upset like this.

"I am not Adam okay? I'm not the good guy you so desperately want me to be." His head is still in his hands, and it hurts to see him like this. I had no idea he had ever compared himself to Adam like that.

"You are a good guy; you have changed. I see it now. I just wanted you to tell me what was going on with those guys and your dad." I want to hold him and let him know it was going to be okay, but I was scared.

"If you knew what he made me do, you wouldn't think I was. I'll never be good enough for you."

I scoot closer to him, closing the gap between us on the bed. He's holding his head in his hands and breathing hard. The need to comfort him is so powerful that it takes me aback. I never feel this way about anybody. I wrap my arms around his waist and rest my head on his shoulder. His breath hitches as he realizes how close I am, but it's probably due to surprise.

"It's going to be okay," I mumble into his shirt. His heart's beating so fast that I can almost feel it. I'll only have to slide my hand up to his chest to rest on the place that's practically pounding to confirm my suspicions but now is probably not the best time to feel him up. Focus Juliet, focus

His arms come around me almost instantly, like it's a knee-jerk reaction. If he is shocked by my actions he doesn't show it, He buries his face in the crook of my neck, holding me tightly and just like that we are wrapped all around each other.

Awareness overwhelms all my senses. I'm hugging Warner AGAIN. He's hugging me back AGAIN, Something as innocent as a hug suddenly has a whole new meaning. I don't know what to do next. Do I just let go of him? Do I keep sitting right where I am? I can feel his breath on my neck; it raises the hair at the back of it and sends tingles down my spine. If his hold wasn't so tight, I'd probably shudder in pleasure. How is this all happening from a hug? I would like to know what would happen to me if we kissed...