"Ow!" I sit on Liam's bed as he applies ointment. The cut is deeper than I anticipated, and hurts a hell of a lot more too.

"Stay still," he instructs. My wrist is tight in his hold, giving me no room to wince or breakaway. I watch his furrowed brows, his eyes steady on the wound. Once he gets to the knife's impact point, it takes everything in me not to scream.

"You know," he continues to talk while lathering my finger. "I didn't know you can't cut an onion." He shakes his head in disappointment, amusement seeping through his face. He's trying to distract me from the stinging.

"I didn't know you had a girlfriend either, Liam, so I guess we learn something new everyday." He looks up at me, his brows furrowed as he starts to wrap my cut in a bandage.

"Who said I have a girlfriend?"

"You did. Last night." And you lied about it to let me down easy.

"Oh..." He quickly finishes wrapping my finger, suddenly fidgety. I stare at him, and he kinda looks away. "I didn't mean I have a girlfriend," he says. "I just, you know...."

"What are you saying?"

"I meant I've been with girls, but not like, as girlfriends." Oh. Oh. "I didn't wanna lie or anything-"

"Wait, wait." I get up, now incredibly embarrassed, my cheeks burning. "Sorry, I uh, I shouldn't have asked that. I need to go now, if you can drive me home." Before he responds, I leave his room, and walk downstairs.

Idiot. Idiot. Idiot. "Ava!" Jason's voice calls for me from the couch. I sit beside him, and he knows something's off right away. "Why're you so...red?" he asks.

"Cause I just made a fool out of myself." I pinch my eyes shut, shaking my head at the same time.

"What happened?" He laughs while patting my back in sympathy.

"Don't wanna talk about it."

We sit in silence before I hear another voice. "If you guys are done canoodling..." Liam says. "I really don't have all day." His jaw is tense, and his brows furrowed.

"What about my lasagna?" Jason shouts as I get outside.

"I'll try it-" Slam. "...Next time." Liam slams the door shut before I can finish speaking. "Will it kill you to be nice?" I ask as we walk through the apartment parking lot. He's in front of me now, and putting my bag into the car.

His eyes look dead into mine, and he says, "It's killed me once before."