"Note to invading aliens: Avoid this place," a guy reads from above me, and I close the sketchbook. "Did you draw that?"

"No."

"It looks cool."

"Thanks," I said hesitantly on the off chance that he's making fun of me.

"Can I buy it from you when you're done?"

"...Why?"

"I'm in a band. We're called The Extraterrestrials."

"...you sing about aliens?"

"No?" He laughed and furrowed his eyebrows. "But this would be a sick album cover or flyer, you know?"

I smirked, "Yeah, okay."

"How much?"

"Uh..." I look up at him, hoping I can gauge the amount I should say. "Twenty bucks?"

He nodded and glanced behind him at the smokers close by. "Dave, come check this out."

"What's up?" Dave said as he came closer, and the guy pointed toward my picture. "Oh, shit. That's good."

"He's gonna let me buy it. Give me some cash."

"You can keep making stuff like this?" He asked me as he dug into his pocket for money.

"I didn't make it. I had a friend do it, but he's not around anymore."

"Did he...die?"

"Not really..." I narrowed my eyes at him.

"Oh, shit, I'm sorry." Dave looked over at his friend and nudged him when he didn't share the same sympathy. "He's like in a coma, man."

"Do you have any more?" I'm asked, and I hand over the entire sketchbook that Aaron filled with aliens and spaceships and pictures of me battling them. "Dope," he says as he flips through it.

"Teeling!" Mr. Spinner yelled as he rounded the building, and Dave ran back to the smokers, dropping his cigarette while they followed suit. "You're supposed to be walking the track."

"Okay," I sighed.

"Hut two, I ain't got all day," he crossed his arms before looking past me. "You're not back here smoking again, are you, Reid?"

"No, sir." He handed back the sketchbook.

"That's what I thought," Mr. Spinner warned.

"Bye," I said sadly as I got up off of the ground.

"Hey, you should come to our gig."

"Yeah? Where at?"

"Heard of Club Sixx?"

I shake my head, "I can't get in."

"Nah, you can. Just tell them you're with me."

"You?

"Lucas," he put his arms out arrogantly, "I'm the lead singer."

Lucas Reid.

I smiled as I backed away, moving slowly so I could watch him leave in the other direction.

When I finally turned around, Evan stopped running on the track as he saw me. He scoffed and glared his eyes. "Don't even think about it. He's not gay."

"Stop talking to me." I scowled.

"Get over yourself."

"Funny coming from you."

"Is it?"

"Hilarious."

"Yeah, well," he shrugged, "your sense of humor has always sucked."

"Yeah, well," I shrugged, "your jokes have always sucked."

"You're a joke. Let's laugh at that."

"Have you been to one of these before?" Jace asked.

"Yes, everyone my mom knows has done at least one."

"A bored housewife thing."

"Along with scheduling too many spa days and bringing in random men to do pointless handiwork."

"Yours does that too?" He laughed.

"Shamelessly."

"I have you beat on that front. The entire city of Manhattan knows my parents are 'secretly' seeing other people. 'Hey, I saw your mom at the airport with my dentist,'" he imitated. "And I have to say: 'She did mention she was getting her teeth cleaned today,' as if it were all normal."

"My mom would be the one telling people your mom was at the airport with the dentist."

"Does Dr. Costner tell you that they're the reason behind all of your problems?"

I nodded in contempt, "Their relationship has given me a false perception of what love is meant to look like."

"My parents' lack of love for each other leads them to avoid me in order to avoid each other, and now I'm filling a void."

"She's full of it." I rolled my eyes. "My dad's gay and my mom is delusional. That has nothing to do with me."

"It makes you feel bad...maybe you'd feel better if you confronted them instead of punishing them."

"I'm not punishing them."

"Come on, your dad's secret life is leverage for you. I get it but put yourself in his shoes, I bet he's not too happy either."

"He shouldn't have gotten married to a woman and started a family then."

"If he didn't— who would be staring at this terrible fruit bowl with me?" He motioned toward the painting in front of us. "Talk to him. Even if it's just to tell him that he shouldn't have made you."

"I will," I crossed my arms, "If you tell your parents their open relationship embarrasses you."

Jace looked behind him where his mother stood a few feet away with two ladies eating complimentary cheese.

"Mom, your open relationship embarrasses me."

Her mouth opened in surprise, but she gathered her composure rather quickly.

"What open relationship, honey? Don't be silly." She patted his shoulder and then walked off.

"Look at the pretty colors, Jace, don't be silly," he mocked.

I winced at the interaction. "Sorry."

"For what?" Jace shrugged at me and then turned his sights toward the open bar.

It's possible Dr. Costner was right about your parents being the root of your problems.

I hesitated before deciding I should go over to him.

"Do you want anything?"

"Whatever you're drinking."

"I'm not really," he said almost shamefully.

"That's fine," I gave him a small smile.

Jace waved over the bartender. "Can you make that two, please?"

And I wonder 'two of what?' until a glass of club soda with lime is placed before me.

"Thank you."

"You can drink if you want to. It won't affect me."

"No, I don't even like alcohol, honestly. So, this is nice."

"Do you feel pressured to drink if you're around other people?"

"Not pressured...but left out if I'm not partaking."

"Well, I hope you find solace in knowing that if I'm there, my cup is filled with water," he lifted his glass.

I smiled at him. "That sounds good, but I won't dance if I'm sober."

"Even if I start dancing first and make a fool of myself to help your confidence?"

"You wouldn't," I said skeptically.

"I'll do it right now," he stands up

"No." I grabbed his arm. "I believe you."

"Are you sure because-"

"Positive," I said through light laughter.

"Okay," he sat back down on the chair next to mine, and I shook my head at the thought of what almost happened. "Are you hungry?"

"A little."

"Should we get dinner after this?"

"I'm leaving for the summer," Heather said quietly as we lay face to face on my bed.

"...leaving?"

"I'm going to Italy."

"When?"

"In 3 weeks."

My jaw dropped. "What?"

"I'll be back in August," she said quickly as if it would make me feel better.

"August?"

"I know," Heather sighed.

"Do you have to?"

"They won't let me stay."

"Damn..." I'm going to miss you.

"It's just the summer."

"Yeah, but I thought I'd get to be with you."

"August."

"In 3 weeks. Fuck's sake." I grab her by the waist and pull her closer. "Alright."

"Don't go to the beach in fall in love with the pretty girls in bikinis."

"Just the ugly girls in one-pieces?" I laughed.

"Hush." She hid her smile.

"Is that what you think I do in the summer?"

"I don't know. Where'd you meet Noelle?"

You couldn't say that without rolling your eyes. I smirked, "I knew you fucking cared."

"I don't...that much."

"That much," I scoffed.

"Well, I thought you were with Cherry before me."

"With?" I raised an eyebrow.

"Whatever that meant for you."

"What are you trying to ask?"

Heather looks up at me, her eyes locked on mine. "...Who is on your list?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because I know you don't really want to have this conversation."

"Yes, I do."

"No."

"There's a lot of girls, then?" She challenged.

"No."

"So, tell me."

"Butterfly," I sighed, but she didn't let up— just doe eyes and pouting to wear me down. "Alright, fine, I...lost my virginity to Amanda."

"...Oh..."

"You don't like that, huh?" I chuckled when she visibly tensed.

"Who was after her?"

"There was a girl named Bree, then Noelle, and then Cherry."

"Four girls?"

"You thought there'd be more?"

"Yes," Heather admitted.

"You've probably been lied to, that's why. Guys exaggerate to make themselves look better." She looks at me in disbelief. "To other guys, at least. My friends do it all the time. You can tell when it's a lie."

"What do you need to exaggerate? Four is enough. I don't know where you found the time," she shrugged to pretend it didn't bother her as much as it did.

"The time?" I laughed. "It wasn't hard to find. It was just sex. I wasn't taking them on dates or anything. We'd hang and then...do it."

"Hm."

"The exaggeration comes when talking about it. The details get blown up. Even if we were only making out, people think there was more going on, and you let them."

Heather shook her head in disapproval. "This is why your friends call girls sluts."

"I told you about Ricky. I warned you." She rolled her eyes. "Butterfly, you can't be mad. You wanted to talk about this."

"I'm not mad."

Sure.

"Come on, there's a reason why you'd hook up less than I would, and it's not just because you were dating someone. When you got bored, you could fly to Paris or something. When we get bored down here, we go outside and do the same shit we do all the time until that's boring too. But finding a cute girl and getting into her pants was always fun."

"Leo," she reprimanded and tried to pull away from me but I held her close.

"And now I have the cutest girl and she doesn't wear pants which makes it that much easier." I kissed her on the cheek and she softened up despite her best efforts.

"How many other girls were there?"

"Not many that I did more than kiss," I reassured her. "Your turn."

"Only Jace."

"Yeah?"

"And we mostly just kissed, as well. That's why he ended up with Evie and naked pictures of Alison."

"No, it's because he's a dick. Don't blame yourself for that," I said in a serious tone.

"I felt like I was supposed to do it, especially after a year. He was my boyfriend, he wanted to, and he said he loved me. But it was...bad even after the first few times, so I tried not to anymore. I figured I was just one of those girls who didn't like sex."

"That bad?" What a fucking loser.

"It was...uncomfortable usually. I think I was always nervous, and he didn't mind, he just wanted to get on with it. Half of the time it seemed like he didn't care who was under him."

"You don't feel that way with me, right?"

"No," she brushed her thumb over my cheek. "It has always been different. Wanting you was different."

"Well, yeah, if you went from hating sex to suddenly wanting me to tear your clothes off-"

"Be serious," Heather lightly pushed me.

"I am," I said through laughter.

"And it wasn't sudden. It happened over time— I wanted to kiss you because I liked you, but wanting more from you was a new feeling I didn't really know. All I could understand is that I wanted..." Heather shied as she thought about it.

"Your clothes torn off," I said with a smile, and she pressed her lips together to suppress her laughter. "No wonder he tried to get me kicked out of school."

"What do you mean?"

"I took a guess and figured he was shit at sex and let him know that I'm not...and I let him know that you know I'm not."

"You told him about the weight room." Heather hit my chest.

"Ow," I laughed. "I was still pissed about your necklace, butterfly. And he was trying to call me a gang member like his friends didn't attack you."

"Attack?" She said like it was a joke.

"Yeah," I defended. "Who snatches jewelry off of a girl like that? I wouldn't. So, he had to know I was better than him." I turned over and climbed on top of her. "And you tell all those Italian guys who try to dirty talk you in a different language that I'm better than them too."

"Of course." Heather grabbed my face and kissed me sweetly. But I won't let her off that easily.

"Say: 'fuck off, I have a boyfriend.'"

"Fuck off, I have a boyfriend," she laughed.

I nod proudly. "And I'll be here waiting for you to come back."

She nods as well...a frown replacing the smile she had as she touches my face like she's trying to memorize the feeling with her fingertips.

She kisses me again slowly...memorizing how it feels to be pressed against my lips... how soft kisses get more intense as we go along...how my tongue finds its way into her mouth each time because it wants to meet hers.

I'm the one memorizing you, huh? Like I'll forget your scent, and your taste, or the way you breathe when we're together like this.

"Maybe you can come with me?" Heather whispered sadly as she pulled back.

"To Italy?"

"Yes."

"Maybe," I said, though it was a lie. No way my mom would let that happen...and even if she did, I hate the idea of leaving her by herself for so long.

"I don't think we can fit enough of this in with just 3 weeks."

"We can't. I'll still miss you."