Why did his eyes change colors all the time? Why was he so persistent on gaining friendship even though he was nearly always the reason it was so messed up? Why was he so jealous over Wes? Why did he saw it was a set up? Why did I care?

Questions upon questions kept echoing in my mind the entire weekend and just when I thought I tuned them out, they returned when I caught Chase staring at me whenever he could at school.

"You're piercing a hole on the side of my head with your staring," I commented as my head rested in my hand as I wrote in English.

"Sorry," I heard Chase mutter. From my peripheral vision I saw him shake it off and go back to writing in his journal. My curiosity got the best of him and I tried to see what he was writing, but then Wes poked my side. I gave him a confused look and he wrote on my journal page's corner.

Just talk to him.

I gave him a rude look meaning 'hell no.' He returned it with another stubborn look.

"I rather you not try and get her to talk to me," Chase mumbled while still writing, as if he knew what Wes wrote. He finally looked up at me. "Or is that too offensive to say?" I meant to say no, but I was captured in his eyes that I couldn't really read. All I could do was shake my head, which caused him to look at least a fraction more composed than previously. "Good. Because I wouldn't want you to think that I don't want you to talk to me at all," he said before shutting his journal and standing up as if he knew the bell would ring right when he did that. Eli gave me an apologetic look as he and Mason left. Wes stayed with me.

"You cannot seriously say you don't see how he's acting and still think I should just be forgiving and begging at his feet," I said. He shrugged.

"He's entitled to his reactions, but what's he supposed to do if you won't even let him apologize or explain?" Wes figured. I smacked his shoulder and scoffed. "What? I'm telling you the truth..."

"He deserved it. He was being an asshole."

"How?"

"He's playing with my emotions," I answered.

"So what? I've hurt you too," Wes reminded.

"It's different," I dismissed.

"How?" he asked. "Because I was justified because I had a mate I was trying to forget?"

"Because you're you and he's him!" I altered.

"That's not an answer," Wes commented.

"Whatever," I grumbled.

"What's the honest and true reason you won't give him a chance?" he asked.

"I don't know," I shrugged. "Why do you care?"

He grabbed my waist and placed me against the wall like he did so many times before. The only difference was that this time it was a friend trying to restrict an even more stubborn friend.

"If you hadn't gone out with me, you and him wouldn't be this complicated," he said as his eyes searched my face.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I whispered. It means that maybe Chase was right about it being set up.

"Ask him," he answered as he backed away from me. I walked to my last class, thinking about that. And right when Chase started to walk into history as I sat in the back, I bit my lip and grabbed his arm. He looked down at me as if my touch pained him.

"What do you want?" he hissed down to me.

"To talk." The truth escaped my lips faster than I even got to think about what to say. His eyes softened, but then he blinked and got the same mad yet confused look from before.

"I've tried that already," he reminded. "Apparently, you want nothing to do with me, so I'm obliging to that."

"But—" I tried to defend, but then the tardy bell rang. He gave me a hard look and then continued to his seat. I landed my forehead on the top of my desk and found the irony that now I was the one trying to talk to Chase for once.

***

I lightly bumped my head on the back of the hallway's wall as I sat at the base of my locker after school with my iPod plugged in my ears and my eyes closed. Secondhand Serenade's, Your Call. And then some jerk separated my earphones from my iTouch.

"Hey—" I started to scold, but then I realized who it was. "Uh..."

"Oh I'm sorry. Let me plug that in for you so I'm not accused off ruining your mood," he said before plugging it back in. I gave him an annoyed look.

"Okay now you're just mocking me," I commented as I stood up.

"Am I?" he asked in an I'm-playing-it-stupid tone. I scoffed. "Oh shit. Did I just ruin another chance for acting like an asshole?"

I glared at him. He'd been like for the entire week while I've tried to talk to him—he'd do something and act as if I would always overreact to it. I understood what he was trying to do and realized that sometimes I really did overreact to everything he did even if someone else did it to me and didn't have as much as an effect.

"F*ck you," I muttered under my breath before opening my locker and getting my stuff. Chase leaned on the adjacent locker.

"What time?" he mocked seductively. I rolled my eyes as I shut my locker in his face and started to walk off.

I stopped from walking away and turned to him. Yelling at him wouldn't get me anywhere so I decided to say something that might make him consider how he was acting.

"Stop acting like Dane," I told him before actually leaving.

"What's wrong with you?" Wes asked once I got outside in the courtyard, minutes later.

"Chase is still acting like an asshole towards me so nothing new," I informed. "He's acting like Dane and I'm sick of it!"

Wes grabbed my hand and walked somewhere with me. We rounded the corners of the outside of the school.

"What—"

"Shh," he ordered. And then I saw it. Chase was sitting with his head rocking against the brick wall, just like how I was doing earlier. Except he growled once and smashed his head into wall and I saw it indent—breaking several bricks. I gasped lightly and Wes grabbed my waist to pull me away.

"What the hell is he doing?!" I asked in a loud whisper.

"Whatever he needs to accept you rejecting him," Wes replied. Something was caught in my throat. It was my fault Chase was banging his head on walls and could probably get himself a freaking concussion...But besides the fact that Wes was holding my waist, something inside of me made me march straight over to Chase and hug him around his neck as I straddled him. I hesitated, but then his arms coiled around my waist.

"I'm sorry," I apologized. He pulled me out to view him. He searched my eyes. They weren't angry or embarrassed. They were sad.

"Don't be sorry for anything," he told me. "What are you doing here?"

My hands were still on his shoulders as his were on my waist. "Don't say that like you don't want me here despite how the week's been going," I told him but then his eyes changed colors.

I didn't want it to sound arrogant—like I was expecting him to be tethered to me and bend to my will. I said it because I wasn't stupid enough to believe him acting out wasn't a cry for attention. But to him, he was hearing something different. Or maybe he was taking it as me pitying him for the self-harm he was inflicting that I walked in on. He hopped up and started to leave.

"There you go again. Walking off as if—"

"As if what?" he turned on his heels and asked as if he was fed up.

"As if I don't mean anything to you!" I yelled, but regretted it. He walked towards me.

"You don't mean anything to me," he hissed. Fine.

I turned and started walking.

"What's wrong? What happened?" Wes immediately asked. I didn't see him waiting there, but considering that I was walking past his car, he just pulled over and hopped out the driver's seat. I kept walking, but then he grabbed my waist and spun me around. "What happened?"

"I'm done, Wes," I said. "I. Am. Done."

"Alicia, just tell me what happened," Wes pleaded.

"Why does it matter? I don't mean anything to him—he said it to my freaking face," I responded. "I'm done, Wes!"

"If you really meant that, you wouldn't have been compelled to go to him in the first place," Wes said, looking through my eyes. "Why do you say you're done when you eventually just go back to him? Or vice versa?"

"Why do you care?!"

"Because I love you. I've told you this a hundred times, but I love you and I don't care what way you think I mean it as long as you believe it," he answered. "I want the best for you and I don't want you and Chase to be like this all because of me—"

"It has nothing to do with you!"

"It has everything to do with me," he responded, confirming that Chase had to be right about us being set up from the beginning.

***

Chase Cane was the death of me and my wall of steel. I thought it would be Wes, but only Chase had me on the brink of tears right now. It was Chase that I couldn't seem to stay away no matter how hard I tried to be away from him. It was Chase who was playing my emotions as much as he accused Wes. Unfortunately, I knew what it was—I was starting to actually have feelings for him...I just didn't know if they were for hate or something else.

I gazed up at the stars I laid under because it was the only thing that could humble me back to size. Even when my problems seemed too large, I was still just a spec in this universe. I shouldn't be so caught up with all of this, but every memory with the boys played again and again in my mind as if I needed a reminder that they were a constant nuisance. Eventually, the memories turned into dreams in a sleep I hadn't realized I fell into.

When my interactions with The Group turned into memories of just Chase and I being together, I woke up. Instead of being outside, I was in an unfamiliar soft bed in a dark, messy room. The only thing I did recognize was the teen boy slumped over on a couch by the right window. I instantly climbed out of the covers and sat on the edge of the bed while sliding my feet into my emptied shoes. I went to the door only to find that it was locked or at least jammed and would take some force to open. I didn't really want to make a ruckus, but it seemed too late when I heard the other inhabitant sigh and whisper my name in a breath as if he was stirring awake.

I looked back, accepting that I had been caught, but he was still sound asleep, repeating my name. Was he dreaming of me?

"Ali..." Chase breathed again out of relief. I took another step towards him and looked at his peaceful face. I knew he was a hot headed werewolf, but now he looked like an adorable young man not capable of anything dangerous. But his innocence faded away when he groaned: "Kayla."

I scoffed when he smirked in his desired dreams. But then he frowned. I seriously wondered if he was reacting to his dreams or if he was just messing with me spying on him.

"Stop," he demanded before the wrinkles on his forehead decreased and he went back into neutral face. The corners of his mouth twitched almost into a smile. "Alicia..."

I rose my foot to take a step back and then his hand shot out and grabbed my wrist. His eyes flicked open.

"Why are you watching me sleep?" he asked in a groggy whisper. I pulled my arm back and stammered.

"Well...I...it..." I fretted. He wiped his eyes and stretched. He stood up and went to sit on his bed and started to take off his shirt and shoes.

"If you're not gonna explain yourself, then just come to bed so we can sleep," he demanded.

"What?! No. Why would—"

"Ali," he interrupted. I sighed and looked at him. "I'm sorry. I honestly am. I f*cked up and I...I don't want to be Dane—"

"Too late," I mumbled.

"I'm sorry. If you just—"

"Give you another chance?"

"No. If—if you let me explain..." he was having a difficult time trying to spit it out and I was growing more restless. "I'll explain everything tomorrow."

"Maybe I want you to explain right now," I said, crossing my arms. "What am I even doing here?"

"You've almost been killed by coldness, werewolves, vampires, and who knows what else," he reminded. "I don't want you falling asleep outside considering your track record."

"So why didn't you bring me home?" I asked. He gave me a look and then slid onto his bed to sit against the headrest.

"Because this way, when I wake up besides you, I'd remember to apologize so I won't have to wait the entire day to do so—because we of all people should know what can happen in a day," he commented. I bit my lip and he leaned over towards me. "And what are you gonna do anyways? We're locked in here and this is the only bed."

"There's a couch."

"It's uncomfortable," he informed. It didn't look uncomfortable when you were sleeping so peacefully on it just now.

"There's a bathtub that can be slept in," I responded as I looked at the bathroom from my peripheral vision.

"You're sleeping in the bed," he insisted. I rolled my eyes and rounded to the other side of the bed. I pulled off my shoes and socks and then my hoodie. He suddenly got up to approach a dresser and pull a pair of shorts out before tossing them at me. I rolled my eyes even though he turned and waited for me to change. I climbed onto the bed and stayed as far from the edge as possible. He followed my behavior now that he knew I was clothed, but his arms had found their way to snake around my waist and cause me to freeze.

Just to make sure he wouldn't spoon me, I turned towards him and then closed my eyes to fall asleep. But I felt him still staring at me like months ago in school before we met. I shifted positions with my arm over my eyes and squinted to see if he was looking at me or not but the sheet was in my way. Attempt after attempt, I couldn't see him. And then I heard him slightly chuckle and the covers were pulled down under my chin.

"Shouldn't you be asleep?" he chuckled. I brought my sheet-covered fists up to my nose and chin to hide most of my face and pretend I was asleep. "You're cute," he commented. I started to smile at the compliment, but then I frowned. But it wasn't quick enough for him not to notice. "What? I can't compliment you?"

"No," I agreed. "I'm mad at you."

"I know," he sighed.

"So no thinking about me," I declared. "No calling me cute or spooning me or having sex dreams—"

"Sex dreams?" he asked with a smirk.

"Don't think I didn't hear you moaning my name when you were sleeping," I commented.

"I believe it was Kayla's name as well," he recalled. I rolled my eyes. "But on the other hand...you just admitted you watched me sleep."

"Whatever, you perv," I responded. I pulled the covers over my head again and closed my eyes. Yet again, I felt him staring at me. I opened an eye as I gave myself enough space to glance at him.

"Why do you keep staring at me?" I mumbled.

"Why do you care?" he asked. I lowered the sheets.

"Because I'm trying to sleep," I answered.

"And I'm not keeping you from doing so," he shrugged.

"Well stop looking at me," I ordered in a squeal. He laughed in amusement.

"Go to sleep and then you won't notice if I am or not," he compromised.

"So you'll stop looking at me when I'm asleep?"

"No promises," he replied. I scoffed slightly, but decided to call him on his bluff.

"Because I'm trying to sleep," I said again, moments later when I was still feeling his gaze.

"You can go to sleep with someone looking at you," he promised.

"Apparently not you."

"Why not?" he asked innocently. "You've slept with me around before."

"A sleeping bag is different than a bed," I insisted.

"Actually, I think a sleeping bag is far worse than a bed," he voiced. "I mean, there's less space."

I rolled my eyes to a close and attempted to ignore him. But eventually I groaned from the discomfort.

"I wasn't even looking at you," he denied before I actually said anything. After my countless hours of thinking and stressing over him, my hard work was all going to waste. I just closed my eyes yet again and tried to sleep, but this time I flipped so that my back faced him.

"Are you still awake?" he whispered what seemed like an hour later. I was too busy stressing about the boy beside me than actually sleeping.

"No. I'm at a rave party," I replied with sarcasm.

"Funny," he said seriously. "Promise me something?"

"No."

"Please."

"No," I repeated even though I would prefer to promise him anything if it meant he'd promise to stop staring at me until I slept.

"I just want you to be sure that you let me explain everything in the morning," he whispered. "I want to be friends and I just don't want you to hate me."

I turned to face him because I was concerned with the fact that he sounded like it took him this whole time to muster up the nerve to tell me that...as if he was going to depend on it by the morning.

"I could never truly hate you," I revealed. He weakly smiled and looked grateful. He rolled over and met his body with mine only to wrap his arms around me in a hug. I wrapped mine around his waist briefly before pulling away and sliding to the edge of the bed again. His hands slid down to my waist and he pulled me into him, just like when we went camping. We were spooning and it was a place I liked to be despite how complicated the feelings were about him. I felt safe...protected...cared for. But then I remembered all the shit. I added my hands to his to remove his grip, but his arms went around my waist and pulled me tighter. I tried to pull his arms off of me and he released one arm to grab both of my hands.

"Please," he whispered in my ear. "In the morning after I tell you everything, you won't want me to be this close to you. Let me enjoy it."

What could possibly not want me to be around him? Was it that bad?

He dropped his head from my shoulder to his pillow and I did the same. I closed my eyes and declared that this was far more comfortable for some reason...even though I was sure I was mad at Chase.

"Good night," I thought I heard him comment minutes later. I thought I dreamt it or something, but then I felt his lips brush past my cheek and he went back to resting on his pillow. A warm sensation spread through my cheek and I thought one thing before falling asleep:

My feelings for Chase Cane were getting more and more out of my control regardless to the fact that I just realized I liked him.