A bright sun blistered my eyes when we exited the school's murky interiors. I put up a hand to shield them and stopped dead in my tracks. The car standing at the curb was far too familiar. I wanted to look the other way, but the black Mustang refused to let me go. The tinted window on the passenger side opened in slow motion while I stood there, glued to the ground and shaking like a leaf. My parched throat tried to gulp down the unease but remained unsuccessful.

I didn't ascend from my zombie-like state until Zach waved a hand in front of my face.

"What's up?" he asked, eyebrows arched as he shifted his gaze from me to the car and back again.

The last thing I wanted was for Zach to be involved in problems stemming from my past, but at that precise moment, he seemed like the only one who could save me. That is to say, not from Tobias, but perhaps from myself.

Forcing myself to focus on Zach rather than the car, I managed to turn my back to the person smirking inside. I knew it would provoke Tobias to no end, but I would rather provoke him than let him know how much power he still held over me. He had used that power relentlessly while we were an item, but the entire thing had been toxic. Our relationship was one major fuck-up right from the start. Teachers weren't supposed to date students, which I knew fully well. Unfortunately, I had been in love with the idea of that kind of danger and had fallen head first into the worst mistake of my life. What started as an exciting, forbidden affair had turned into a threatening situation. Tobias made sure to have plant enough hooks in me to prevent any sort of rebellion, and in the end my entire family suffered. It should have been easy to report him, but who would trust my word before his? He had told me that enough times to make me believe it was a futile course of action.

Zach appeared in my vision again, effectively breaking off my train of thought. I could see a myriad of questions in his facial expressions, but he seemed fine with giving me some time to explain myself. He threw one last glance over his shoulder toward the Mustang before dragging me away from the spot. Regaining control of my limbs, I managed to stumble forward with Zach clearing the path ahead. Even if Zach might never know how much he helped me by simply showing the way, I was grateful for his presence. I knew better than to thank him for it, but perhaps I could show my gratitude another way.

The powerful engine revved behind us, sending a cold shiver down my spine, but I refused to look back. Tobias could fret on his own—I wouldn't give him the benefit of seeing my reaction.

Zach and I turned a corner and my shoulders instantly fell into their normal positions. Zach must have noticed the change because he stopped pulled me to a halt.

"What the hell was that?"

I should have known the questions would come, and perhaps I should have prepared some kind of response, but my mind didn't work properly whenever Tobias was close. He acted like some kind of disturbance intermingling with my brain waves, causing them to fly all over the place in a wild array of confusion.

When I didn't reply, Zach let out an exasperated sigh. I winced and opened my mouth to speak. However, he stopped me before I had time to form words. "Fine, don't tell me," he said. "Let's paint instead."

His words had an odd effect on me. The lack of prying beckoned me to tell him everything. I don't think he meant it as reversed psychology, but it sure as hell worked.

"That guy's from my past."

Zach startled as if he hadn't expected me to say anything, and least of all something that had to do with what just happened.

"And?"

There it was: the prying. The small, innocent question almost put my guard back into place, but the question mark at the end was more of a suggestion which made it easier. I was fully aware that I didn't have to tell anyone about Tobias and I, but the words seemed to bubble up inside of me, desperate to get out. Perhaps if I said it once, I could start to deal with the shame rather than hide it.

"He's my scary ex."

Zach's eyes hardened. "Did he hurt you?"

I wasn't prepared for the ferocity voiced in the expressed concern. For a few seconds, I forgot to reply as I tried to break apart the meaning of what he said, not the actual words, but how he said them. It sounded like he cared.

"Dylan..." he said, reminding me that I should answer him.

"Define hurt."

My question brought out another exasperated sigh. "You're scared of him, so I'm asking about the physical kind of hurt."

"He never hit me. He's more of a manipulative villain."

Zach's focus shifted to searching his pockets for a lighter and cigarettes. I leaned back against the brick wall and dug my feet into the dry dirt. Smoking was a bad habit, but sometimes it felt like the only thing one could do to relieve stress.

Zach handed me one of the cancer sticks and slipped another one into the left corner of his mouth. He lit his cigarette before offering me the flickering flame.

I inhaled the toxic smoke. "Thanks."

Instead of responding, Zach leaned back against the wall beside me, and we shared a comfortable silence together. We should have painted, or at least searched the school grounds for something to depict, but none of us moved. The only thing stirring the stillness was the billowing clouds passing our lips and the small flakes of ash falling from the cigarettes toward the ground. It was as if the wind held its breath, waiting for one of us to end the momentary pause of our lives. My heart beat like a metronome, keeping me aware of time passing when nothing else did. It lulled me into a state where thoughts evaporated. It was peaceful, and I had no intention of breaking the trance. Maybe that was the reason why I jerked awake and dropped the cigarette when the silence ended.

"You're not the only one with a past."

The metronome in my chest went off-beat.

I already knew he had a past but I never thought he would offer that kind of information willingly. The way Tyra had shirked around the issue had lured me to believe that it was something Zach never talked about. Obviously, I was wrong.

While I racked my brain for the right words to say, Zach's gaze wandered off into the distance. I should have said something sooner before he closed the door. The invitation had lingered in the air for a brief second, but it was already gone. I wanted to groan at my stupidity and general selfishness. Zach needed to be seen like everyone else, and if I couldn't handle that simple task, how could I ever ask him for more?

Perhaps I was reaching for straws, or for something to close the distance between us again. Whatever it was, it opened my mouth and words spilled out.

"Maybe it takes two fucked-up pasts to forge something better ahead."

He blinked and came back, watching me warily.

"You're weird," he said.

I tried a smile but failed.

He rolled his eyes as if he thought I took his words literally. "Come on, let's go paint something." The suggestion seemed like the perfect solution to everything. I needed to use my hands for something, and my mind always settled when I painted out whatever it was I felt.

I pushed off the wall. "Good idea."

We ended up on a bench looking out across a small pond surrounded by tall willows. The sinew branches moved in the soft breeze, leaves caressing each other with light brushes, and I instantly knew what I wanted to paint. Tobias' hands had never been gentle or careful, and it was time I forgot them. It was time I replaced those tactile memories with new ones.

Feeling brave, I laced my hand with Zach's, aiming for the tender touch of willow leaves. Zach tensed, and then something wonderful happened—he squeezed my fingers lightly, accepting the touch with a careful smile across his lips. A smile that said more than any words ever could.