It's a little more than awkward in English class now. This is due to the fact that Luke remains sitting behind me, and I in front of him, even after everything. Emma sits next to me, and between the three of us it's like a triangle of pent-up tension and negative energy. Luke is mad at me, and Emma is mad at Luke, and maybe I'm a little mad at Luke, too. Not necessarily because of anything he's done to me—I think I'm getting over all that happened between us—but because of his decision to self-destruct, and I don't want that for him.

I think all I can do to help Luke at this point is forgive him. Sure, the two of us wanted to be together at different times, yet those times never collided and maybe they never will. Besides, it's all thanks to Luke that I've ended up with Liam at all. I suppose it's even thanks to him that I met Liam in the first place. And I'm happy with my boyfriend, and I'm tired of letting things get in the way of that.

As Ms. Edwards enters the classroom with her copy of Romeo and Juliet in hand, I try my best to clear my mind and pay attention. Though we're almost halfway through with the play by this point, some of my classmates still mumble under their breath as they reach for their copies. I roll my eyes at this, shifting uncomfortably in my seat as I notice my book is missing from under my desk. I must have absentmindedly kicked it, as my copy of the play is now sitting on the ground to the side of Luke's desk.

I share a glance with Emma, silently pleading with her to ask Luke to grab my book for me. She wrinkles her nose and shrugs in response, her expression telling me all I need to know: she's not gonna get it for me.

From behind me, a deep voice clears their throat. I turn around in my seat to find Luke holding my book in hand, expression steely, blue eyes as icy as usual. I wonder if this is how all of our interactions will be from now on. As if we're strangers, but worse somehow. Strangers who seem to have an e distaste of one another.

"Is this yours?" Luke's voice breaks through my thoughts.

I blink as I realize I've spaced. "Um, yeah," I mumble, reaching for the book as Luke extends it to me. Our fingers brush during the transaction, Luke's touch a spark on my skin that lingers even when his hand is long gone. Where I felt a spark, Luke must have felt a fire, as the second we touch he jerks away as if he's been shocked.

I purse my lips, wondering why his reaction insults me and why I feel the need to show Luke that I don't hate him, despite everything.

I try for a smile, though I'm sure it comes out as more of a sad grimace. "Thank you."

Luke falters under my stare. "No problem."

I can't stop myself from getting lost in his eyes. His irises remind me of a lake in the winter. Sparkling blue water hard and frozen over with cold ice. Pretty to look at, even though you know it can be dangerous. And though there is that hidden layer of danger—even though you know one step onto that ice could send the surface splintering into cracks that could lead to a freezing and lonely death—there's also an air of curiosity, making Luke's eyes something impossible to look away from.

Realizing I've been staring for much too long, I quickly turn back around in my seat, embarrassed. Ms. Edwards soon begins her lecture, saving me from having to overthink my previous interaction with Luke.

"I think you all will like the scene we read today," Ms. Edwards says. "Without giving too much away, I can tell you that our main characters will finally be meeting. I think we're going to read this scene aloud today, so I'm going to assign parts. Hm . . . Luke, why don't you read the part of Romeo?"

I roll my eyes at this. Of course Luke would play Romeo. Not that he's much of a romantic; he just has that effect on women. One look at him and you know you're going to risk another.

"Sabrina, would you mind reading for Juliet?" Sabrina is a classmate of mind, a pretty blond with wide blue eyes and a sunny personality. Emma and I quickly share a glance, both of us clearly relieved at not having been picked to read today.

"Let's start where we left off yesterday, Luke, begin reading right after the exit with Tybalt and Capulet."

Luke nods and clears his throat. His voice fills the room from where he sits behind me, and I read along as he speaks.

"If I profane with my unworthiest hand, this holy shrine, the gentle fine is this: my lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand, to smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss."

Sabrina's voice then resonates through the room, soft and melodic. "Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much. Which mannerly devotion shows in this; for saints lips and holy palmers too?"

"Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too?"

"Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer."

"O, then dear saint, let lips do what hands do; they pray, grant thou, lest faith turn to despair."

"Saints do not move, though grant for prayers' sake."

"Then move not, while my prayer's effect I take. Thus from my lips, by yours, my sin is purged."

"Then have my lips the sin that they have took."

"Sin from they lips? O trespass sweetly urged! Give me my sin again."

"You kiss by the book."

The next line is spoken by the nurse, which is where Ms. Edwards cuts in.

"So, there we have the infamous love at first sight scene of Romeo and Juliet. I'm going to stop here to ask you all a few questions. First of all, I want to know: To you, what is love at first sight?"

Of course, Luke is the first to answer Ms. Edwards' question. "Easy," he says, and I watch as he leans back in his chair out of the corner of my eye. "It's exactly what the term pins it to be. Love at first sight is when you see someone for the first time, and just . . .know they're the one for you."

Ms. Edwards seems amused by Luke's response. Peering at him closely, she prompts, "If you're in favor of love at first sight, then tell me this: How do you know just by looking at someone that you're going to fall in love with them?"

I can't refrain from turning to glance at Luke, almost absentmindedly doing so. I'm surprised when I turn around to find Luke already looking at me.

It's as if our gazes are connected, neither of us daring to look away. I've never known a world where Luke isn't at the ready with an answer to any question thrown his way, but now I watch as he hesitates before replying to Ms. Edwards.

"Maybe love at first sight doesn't work so strongly at first," Luke admits in a soft tone, though his words are nothing short of captivating. "I mean, maybe you don't immediately fall in love the first time you see someone. But it's the little things about a person that first draw you in. Like a smile, or the sound of a laugh. And before you know it, you can't stop thinking about that person, remembering the little things that first caught your attention. Suddenly, you find yourself wanting to know them. To be a part of their life. Sometimes that feeling can be so overwhelming you just don't know how to handle it. It can make you say and do some pretty stupid things. Things you wish you could take back."

Luke's gaze holding mine feels heated, as if he's trying to get me to see something. For a moment, it almost feels as if his words are directed toward me. Yet I refuse to believe he is talking about me when he says those last few sentences.

But, if he were, what would that mean?

Interrupting my thoughts, Ms. Edwards says, "Almost sounds like you're talking from experience, Luke."

Around us, the class laughs softly. But I am frozen. Luke's gaze flickers from mine to Ms. Edwards', though he merely shrugs in response to her teasing.

"I don't believe that love at first sight exists." I don't realize I've said the words aloud until I feel the eyes of my classmates shifting over to me, along with Ms. Edwards' calculated stare.

Ms. Edwards raises her eyebrows at me, encouraging me to go on. I swallow hard, not having planned to share my opinions with the class. Though I suppose if Luke can do it, I can too.

"I mean, how is it possible to fall for someone after nothing but a glance?" I question, shaking my head. "To say that you can fall in love with someone without knowing a thing about them is just shallow. I mean, it's basically judging a book by its cover. Maybe you can be attracted to someone with nothing but a look, and maybe even become infatuated with them. But love? No way."

"It's not impossible," Luke speaks up, causing me to face him once again. "Sometimes one look is all it takes for you to understand that person is someone you want to know. And after you've met them and learned who they are? That's when you start to fall in love. But all of that comes from one look."

I don't know why I feel the need to comment on this remark, or why I want to prove Luke wrong. However, I can feel a fire rising in my chest, those embers that never fail to control me as the flames begin to dance.

"You can't fall in love with someone from one glance," I blurt, my eyes narrowed at Luke. "Love isn't even a feeling. It's a choice. One that comes after you find the right person for you, not before. Love is a choice to make things work with someone when life is rough; a choice that every fight is going to end because nothing is worth losing your other half over. How can you look at someone and simply make the choice that you love them?"

"Is love always a choice?" Luke shoots back. "Choice is a big part of being in love, I'll give you that. But isn't love somewhat a feeling, too? When you're around the person you're in love with, don't you feel any different from being around anyone else? Wouldn't you call that feeling love?"

"I wouldn't know," I blurt without thinking. "I've never been in love before." Once the words are out, I'm unsure why I find them embarrassing to admit. I mean, it's not like there's a time frame for when someone is supposed to fall in love. And yes, I care about Liam, but it's definitely too soon to call what I have with him love. I'm the kind of person who takes that word seriously, who has to really mean it when I say it.

"Besides," I continue, wanting to get the attention off of my previous statement. "Romeo and Juliet are just kids. How can they really know if they're in love or not? And at first sight, too?"

"What does being a kid have to do with anything?" Luke counters. "I hate when people say that. 'You don't know what love is—you're a kid!' I mean, sure, maybe being young makes you immature. But can you really put an age limit on love? My parents met when they were in high school, and they're still married to this day. Is their love any less real just because they were teenagers when they met?"

I'm stumped, having no idea how to argue with what Luke has just said. And slightly envious of what he has just revealed about his parents. Maybe that is why the whole idea of love bothers me so much. I mean, if I were to get all psychological about it. My parents never had a great relationship, and isn't that every kids' first exposure to what love is? Not to mention that my own relationship with my parents has been all that great. Plus, I've never gotten along with my sister. I guess I'm so indifferent to love because the concept just seems so foreign to me.

At a last attempt to win this battle between Luke and I, I snap, "Stop acting like this is all so personal to you, anyway. I mean, have you ever experienced love at first sight?" I smirk, sure that I've gotten to him with this comment. I mean, how can you really argue in favor of something you haven't felt?

Luke's gaze is fixated on mine, and his irises flash a cold shade of storm gray at my question. I watch as his jaw clenches, tensing. It's weird, knowing the entire class is watching us, yet only being aware of him.

Luke bites down on the corner of his lip, closing his eyes like he knows he's about to say something he'll regret. Then he whispers, "I have. With you."

Around me, the class bursts into simultaneous conversation. I'm aware of everything, including Emma next to me—whose face blanches and pales at Luke's words. This is no doubt because she remembers all of the times Luke and I have fought, ruthlessly trading insults back and forth.

My mind seems to shut down. I can't stop staring into Luke's eyes, which are unreadable to me. My breath hitches in my throat, my chest pausing mid-rise. I can't move, can't breathe, can't even fathom what Luke has just said.

The next thing I know, I'm rising from my chair in a daze. I can't comprehend what I'm doing; I just know that I need to be out of this classroom, away from the stares of my peers. I bet everyone is no doubt waiting for my response, hoping to hear that I feel the same way for Luke as he has just said he does me. I mean, isn't that what I'm supposed to say, now that Luke has publicly declared his feelings for me? Only, I don't feel the same. How could I? And how could Luke do this to me, knowing I'd be uncomfortable with him putting me in such a position?

I exit the room, not stopping when I hear Emma calling after me or when Ms. Edwards asks me to come back. I just keep moving, unsure of where I'm going, just wanting to be far away from the stares and my humiliation.

Once out in the hall, I hesitate, debating what to do from here. I'm no doubt blowing this entire situation out of proportion, but it's not every day boys declare their love for me in a room full of our peers. In fact, I don't think a boy has told me he loved me once in my seventeen years on this earth. And I had really wanted that moment—you only get to hear your first "I love you" once, you know—to be at a time that mattered; I wanted it to mean something, I wanted the person who said that to me for the first time to truly feel that way.

I run a hand through my hair, unaware that I've started to cry. Deep down, I know Luke is not the person I wanted to hear those words from for the first time. The relationship I have with Luke is one that is confusing even to me, and now he has only further messed with my head. Where in the world does "I love you" come from: I can't stand you, I want you to pretend to date someone for me, I'm going to make out with you in your room, I'm going to tell you I have feelings for you, then I'm going to tell you I need space when you confess you share those feelings, then I'm going to change my mind again and totally catch you off guard in front of our entire class.

It's not love that Luke feels for me, but competition. He lost me to Liam, and he can't stand to lose to Liam. I've known Luke is willing to go to the extremes to beat Liam at anything (after all, Luke asking me to pretend to date Liam just so Luke could become lacrosse captain was how I met Liam in the first place), but I never realized that I was nothing but another piece in Luke's games until now.

Just when I think things can't get any worse for me, I hear approaching footsteps. I look up to find—of course—Luke rounding the corner. He stops walking when he is within a few feet of me, staring at me wearily.

"Why?" I whisper after a moment, my voice shaky. I don't give Luke a chance to respond, just the sight of him turning my anger into a rage I can't quite describe, causing me to lash out. I storm up to him and snap, "Why would you say something like that, Luke? In front of everyone? Especially when it's not true! You don't love me. You're an asshole to me more times than not. Is that what love is to you, Luke?"

"I'm sorry!" Luke bursts, seemingly struggling to keep the words in. I hesitate before speaking, something about the look in his eyes stopping me. Luke takes a step closer, merely flame-filled inches left between us.

"I'm sorry, Jade," he repeats, much softer this time. And somehow, I believe him. Maybe it's the sincere expression he wears as he says the words. Or maybe it's the raw, genuine tone he speaks with. Whatever it is, I can tell that he really is sorry for how he has treated me.

"I was an ass to you, Jade," Luke continues, running a hand through his hair. "If I'm being honest, I don't deserve your forgiveness. I've been a jerk. I was just . . . I was scared, Jade. I've never felt so strongly about someone before. And as stupid as it sounds now, I thought I could bury those feelings I have toward you under a mask of coldness. Because the first time I looked at you—when you tripped going down your steps—you just looked so . . . perfect. I'm not the kind of guy who falls for people, Jade. I'm not the kind of guy to let someone in easily. But running into you . . . I felt this urge to let you get through my walls and into my heart, and the stronger that feeling grew, the more guards I put up. I wanted to push you away before I let you get too close."

I don't want to listen to his explanations, don't want to try and understand things from Luke's perspective. But in some twisted, delusional way, I have felt the same toward him. Even when we first met, when he had been nothing but a pain in the ass, I couldn't deny the attraction I felt for him. Wasn't I the one who so willingly jumped at the chance to deceive Liam, just because it gave me a chance to be around Luke? Wasn't I the one who went to Luke's house not too long ago just to confess that I had feelings for him? Wasn't I the one who agreed to go out with a boy, just to make the boy standing in front of me now see what he was missing?

And that is why Luke and I will never work. We're simply too different, too opposite. He is ice while I am fire, quiet where I am outspoken, calculated in comparison to my spontaneity. All Luke and I do when we're together is hurt the other. We feel too strong for each other, too much. Sometimes it's hard to draw the line between the good feelings and the bad.

My thoughts are relentless, tearing me down like I'm a building whose bricks are being removed one by one. A warm tear trails slowly down my cheek, leaving behind a jagged wet rail on my skin. Slowly, Luke takes a step forward. It's as if he's crossing some sort of line, like he understands he's passing the point of no return. Ever so gently, he raises a hand to my cheek, wiping my tears away with the pad of his thumb. His other hand wraps around my wrist, grasping my skin tightly. His touch on my skin is a fire, burning me like nothing else ever could.

"This is what we do to each other," I whisper. "We play games. We hurt each other, just so we can be the one to comfort the other. It's a pattern. You hurt me, you draw me back in. I hurt you, I draw you back in. Don't you see that?"

"It doesn't have to be that way," Luke says softly, his blue eyes cloudy. "It could be different, Jade. I'm tired of running away from my feelings, of trying to hide them. I care about you. You care about me. Can't it be that simple?"