"Hey Sunshine," Thorne says the following Monday as he falls into his seat next to me, offering that signature smirk that I'm starting to warm up to. It's scary how I'm starting to find something I used to hate so endearing. It's frightening to me that I'm genuinely starting to become accustomed to a boy like Thorne Baxter. If I could stop it, I would.

But, unfortunately, I can't.

I can feel his green eyes on me as he lays back in his seat lazily, waiting for class to start like the rest of us. Only, I find myself wishing that class didn't have to start. For some reason, part of me doesn't mind sitting here with a boy like Thorne staring at me, that I-know-something-you-don't-know smirk playing across his lips.

"Almost get hit by any shopping carts lately?" And with that one sentence, Thorne manages to ruin the moment. Not that there was, like, a moment or anything. You know what I mean.

I roll my eyes and let out a dry laugh. "Very funny, Thorne."

He just smirks in response, as usual. I can't help but notice a handful of girls across the classroom making googly eyes at him, glancing at me with disgust evident on their features. Great. Now I'm not only the invisible girl, I'm the girl that all the other girls hate because I sit next to Thorne.

But maybe that's not such a bad thing.

"What?" It doesn't register in my mind that Thorne has asked me a question until he's all up in my face, staring me dead in the eye. If I didn't know Thorne, I'd say that he almost looks concerned. His eyebrows are drawn and there's a strange gleam in his eye, one that I rarely see. But, since I do know Thorne, I know that I'm probably just imagining the whole thing.

"What do you mean 'what'?" I ask. Thorne frowns, eyeing me skeptically.

"You had that look on your face," he mutters, still staring me dead in the eye unblinkingly.

"What look?"

"That look you get when you're upset about something."

Thorne says the words like they're no big deal. Like he's stating a fact. But he doesn't know just how much those words impact me. To know that I was upset, Thorne would have to know what I look like when I'm upset. And to know what I look like when I'm upset would mean that he'd have to study me. A lot. And care. Care to know what each look I make means. It's such a simple thing for him to do, but it means a lot to me. And it's crazy to think that he doesn't even know that.

"I was just . . . thinking." I don't elaborate. Telling him what I was thinking about would mean revealing that I was thinking about him, and there's no way I can do that. At least, not to his face.

"You okay?" He still looks mildly concerned, and I'm beginning to wonder if maybe I wasn't imagining it at all. Maybe he does care about me, as crazy as that sounds.

I force a smile, wondering why my heart is suddenly racing like it's about to cross the finish line in a marathon. "Fine," I tell him brightly. "Perfectly fine."

Thorne studies me a moment longer, nodding slowly. Before pulling away, he bites down on his bottom lip. It seems like he wants to say something else, but doesn't know quite how to. Then, startling me to no end, he leans forward again, saying, "Because, you know, if you weren't fine, you could talk to me about it." With that he pulls away, going back to leaning in his seat, acting as if he didn't just drop a huge bomb on me.

Whether he meant to or not, Thorne Baxter just indirectly said that he cares about my feelings. And I don't think sweeter words have ever been spoken to me in my life.

★★★

"I swear to God, why is he everywhere?" Saige wrinkles her nose, her gaze on the school doors that lead out to the courtyard. I don't even need to look up to know who's standing there. There's only one person Saige could be talking about, and it seems to be the one person I can't escape either: Thorne.

"Would you stop complaining?" Emmie says, her blue eyes trained on just the boy I'm thinking about. "He is a complete four course meal, and my eyes haven't eaten in days."

"Ew," I mutter with a laugh, Emmie's gaze turning to me. "Who talks like that?"

"Me," Emmie says proudly, flashing a grin and shrugging her shoulders.

"I can't stand that boy," Saige mumbles nastily. "He's nothing but trouble. I wish everyone would get over themselves."

I can't help rolling my eyes. Maybe it's hypocritical of me to disagree with Saige, because I more or less thought the same of Thorne when he first got here. But now, knowing him the way that I do (take that as you will, I'm not quite sure what it means, either), I can't help wanting to defend him. Maybe he's done bad in his past, but I think he's changed. Or at least trying to change. And that's all that matters, right?

I guess that's why I find myself saying, "Would you chill, Saige? You don't even know him."

Emmie and Saige glance at me with similar confused expressions painted on their faces. I can tell immediately what they're thinking, because I'm thinking it too. Did Mia really just say that?

I don't know why I feel the need to clarify myself, but I do. So I mumble, "I mean, you don't even know him. So . . ." I trail off, feeling my face flush. I can't believe that those words just left my mouth, but they did.

"Oh." Saige lets out a snort, giving me a look that makes my blood start to boil. "And . . . what? You do, Mia?"

There goes that twinge of hurt again. What could Saige possibly mean by that? Oh, I know. She doesn't think a girl like me could possibly know a boy like Thorne. That he would never associate himself with me.

I could sit silently. I could let her talk to me like that. Let her assume that I'm okay with her treating me the way she just did, and then let the same thing happen in the future. But I find myself thinking that Thorne wouldn't let somebody speak to him that way. He'd put them in their place. And that's not a bad thing. Maybe, I find myself thinking, I should be more like Thorne.

"Yeah." I don't really know that I'm saying the words until I find that my lips are moving. "I do. More than you do, at least. Besides, Saige, didn't your mother ever teach you not to judge a book by its cover? Seriously, have some damn class for once!"

I don't stick around to see what my friends are going to think of my outburst. Frankly, I don't want to be around them. Well, mostly Saige, but still. I grab my phone and storm off, wondering why I feel so defensive when it comes to Thorne.

I should feel bad for what I just did. I mean, I never curse. I never fight with my friends. And I hardly ever stick up for myself. But maybe I should. I'm tired of letting people steamroll over me. Tired of people thinking I don't know how to hold my own. Tired of people thinking that a boy like Thorne would never speak to a girl like me.

I'm in the school parking lot before I know it. I'm thinking that I'll just spend the rest of my lunch/free period in my car when I feel a hand grab my arm, pulling me back. Shaken, I look up to see who the hand belongs to. I don't think I should be surprised to see that it's Thorne. That doesn't change the fact that I kind of am.

"Hey," he sounds a little breathless, like he's been running. "I saw you storm off. You looked pretty upset."

I purse my lips, his hand still holding me captive. I don't how I should feel about the fact that he ran after me. All I know is that my heart is doing that thing where it starts to race again, and I can feel butterflies dancing in the pit of my stomach.

"Uh, yeah." I take a deep breath, forcing myself to look into his eyes, to fake a smile. I mean, if you smile you're okay, right? "I just got into a fight with my friend. No biggie." Only, it is to me. I never fight with my friends, but this would be the second time I have in weeks. With Saige specifically. Over a boy that seems to be turning my world upside down.

Thorne hesitates for a moment. His eyes skim my face before meeting mine once again, his hand warm on my skin. "Do you want to talk about it?"

I open my mouth, prepared to decline his offer. But then I realize that I kind of do want to talk about it, and—like it or not—he's really the only person I want to do that with. I don't have anyone else to turn to.

I plop down on the back of my car, his hand having since been removed from my arm. I run a hand through my hair, gesturing for Thorne to take a seat next to me. He pulls himself up so that we're both sitting on my car, side by side. I ignore the way our thighs touch, wondering why I feel a weird course of electricity running through the skin that touches his.

"I don't normally fight with my friends." I don't know why this is what I decide to start with, but I do. "But, lately, they've just—well, my friend Saige, has just been driving me crazy."

I can feel Thorne's eyes watching me. "What'd she do?"

How am I supposed to tell him that Saige and I were bickering about no other than himself? The thought makes me flush with embarrassment.

"Well . . ." I trail off, looking up at him. "We were kind of fighting about you."

For just the smallest of seconds, Thorne looks taken aback. When he blinks the, the shocked look disappears from his face and he just seems . . . confused.

"Me?" He leans closer just the slightest bit. "Why me?"

"It's just . . . Saige thinks that you're just this troublemaker that's up to no good and whatever. And, well, I feel like I know you enough to stick up for you. I just don't like when people choose to make up their mind about a person before they really get to know them, you know? I guess it's because a lot of people do that about me, too. Like, to everyone else I'm just this quiet girl who fades into the background." I blush, wondering if I really just said all of that out loud. I blush even harder when I realize that I kind of don't care.

"I don't think of you that way." Before I get to ask Thorne what he means by that, he's talking again. "But you don't have to defend me, Mia." It registers in my mind that he just said my actual name, which is kind of shocking. What's even more shocking is how good it sounds when he says it, low and deep and a little husky.

"Of course I do." I meet his gaze shamelessly. "I feel like I know you enough to tell people when they're wrong about you."

"But that's the thing." There's a conflicted gleam in Thorne's eyes as he speaks, like his mind and his heart are in two different places. "Your friend isn't wrong, Mia. I'm not—I'm not a good person to know."

I can feel my eyebrows furrowing in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"I've done some things," Thorne admits, suddenly refusing to meet my gaze. "Some pretty messed up things, Mia." A shadow crosses his face, despite the fact that the sun is shining down on us directly. "You shouldn't hang around me. It's not good for you."

"I don't care." I'm not sure what's more shocking: the fact that I say the words, or the fact that I mean them. "I don't care what a person has done in their past. We all make mistakes. You're trying to be a better person, right? That's all I care about."

"But that's not what other people care about," Thorne says slowly. "I'm serious, Mia. I'm not the kind of person that you want to know. I'm the kind of person that gets other people into deep shit."

He finally looks up. When his green eyes meet my hazel, I swear I feel some sort of connection pass between us. I guess that's why I find myself saying, "I don't think you're as bad as you think you are, Thorne." And I mean it. Whatever he's struggling with, whatever he thinks is true about himself, I want to help him with. I don't know why the world brought us together. I don't know why he noticed me that day after school, the first time I caught him looking at me. I don't know why he happened to sit next to me in chemistry. All I know is that I believe everything happens for a reason. We were brought together for a reason.

"You should," Thorne says after a long span of silence, his eyes on mine and nothing else.

"I don't." I take his hand in mine, surprised that he doesn't pull away. I squeeze lightly as I say, "I'm here, you know. If you ever want to . . . talk about anything."

And maybe the most shocking thing in all of history is the way Thorne squeezes my hand back, unwavering as he says, "Me too."