"I swear, Mom," I say desperately, throwing my hands in the air in frustration. "It's just Saige's! We have this big English project, and I can't fail! I promise that's where I'll be. When you get back from your business trip, I'll be home where you want me. Just please let me go. Please?"

Mom purses her lips as she watches me beg her for forgiveness. For two weeks straight—since the day I came home after sleeping at Thorne's—I haven't left the house to go anywhere but school. My parents have no clue that Saige and I are no longer friends. They have no clue that I haven't spoken to Emmie in weeks. They don't know that when I'm talking on the phone, I'm talking to Thorne's (and now my) good friend, Charlie. They have no idea that their daughter is basically going out with notorious "bad boy" Thorne Baxter.

And I'd like to keep it that way.

When Thorne asked me today during fourth if I could go to Charlie's with him, I immediately said yes. Now, the hard part is convincing my mother to let me go. She and my dad will be away this weekend on a business trip, giving me the perfect opportunity to spend time with Thorne. (Not that they have to know that.)

"I don't know if I can trust you, Mia," Mom says hesitantly, a conflicted look on her face. I can feel my heart seize in my chest at her words, praying that I can convince her otherwise. "Are you really going to be at Saige's?"

Hell no. I'll probably never go to her house again. "Yes!" I practically scream. "You can even hear the voicemail her mom sent me, explaining it all!" When Mom asks to hear the voicemail, I readily play it for her. I got Charlie to record a voicemail for me, pretending to be Saige's mother. All I had to do was change her contact info in my phone to Saige's mom. The only hard part of the plan is getting my mom to fall for it.

Mom stares at my phone for a good ten minutes, replaying the voicemail twice before finally speaking to me. "I'm still not happy with you for lying and keeping secrets from your father and I. But—" Mom pauses, taking a deep breath. "I genuinely don't like the idea of you being home alone all weekend. If something happened to you . . ." she trails off, shaking her head. "Just because I let you go doesn't mean you're not still in trouble, do you hear me?"

"Loud and clear," I assure her, crossing my fingers as I wait for her verdict. Finally, my mom sighs. "Pack your things," she tells me. "But you better be home by Sunday. And I'm going to be calling you, so keep your phone on you."

"Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you!" I cry, jumping up and down and giving my mom a bear hug before rushing up the stairs and throwing my things into an overnight bag. My parents don't know it, but this is turning out to be the best weekend of my life.

★★★

Thorne picks me up after my parents have already left, just so they won't run into each other. He comes to the front door and everything, the way a normal boyfriend that a daughter who doesn't have to keep a secret from her parents would do.

"Nice house," Thorne says appreciatively when I open the front door for him. My house really isn't much, it's just a regular old brick two-story that was built ages ago, though I thank him for the compliment.

"You want to come in?" I ask, holding the door open. The thought of having Thorne in my house for the first (and probably last) time ever makes me excited and nervous at the same time.

Thorne steps through the doorway, and I shut the door behind him. I show him around, leading him up the stairs so that he can see my room—because he'll probably never get the chance again, thanks to the circumstances we're under.

I watch as Thorne looks around, studying my walls and decor and things. He walks over to my bookshelf, studying the different trinkets, occasionally picking something up and looking at it for a moment. He flicks one of the tassels on the throw pillow on my bed, smirking like he finds something funny.

"I like your room," he says as I'm gathering the things I'll need for the weekend. "It's exactly like I imagined it to be."

I raise an eyebrow as I face him, trying not to look too smug as I say, "You've thought about my room before?"

Thorne, on the other hand, doesn't seem to find this embarrassing in the slightest. He smirks—as usual—giving me a look that makes me want to throw myself at him. "Of course," he says in a low tone. "You in your pajamas? Changing into—"

"I'm going to stop you there," I interject, blushing at the thought of what he's insinuating. Knowing that he's done his job by embarrassing me, Thorne smiles in satisfaction.

"I'm just messing with you, Sunshine." He wraps his thumbs around the belt-loops of my jeans, pulling me toward him. "Although, I would like to see—"

"Absolutely not," I chide him, narrowing my eyes. Thorne just does what Thorne does best: smirks. His eyes wander over to something over my shoulder, and I hear him let out a loud chuckle. I turn, wondering what he's looking at, my gaze immediately zeroing in on the only thing he could find funny. The sweatshirt he gave me, balled up on the side of my bed next to my pillow.

My face flames. Is it possible to die of embarrassment? Because I really want to.

"Aww," he coos tauntingly, poking my side. "You sleep with my sweatshirt?"

"No," I stutter, throwing a decoration pillow over the thing so I won't have to stare at it any longer. "It's just, uh, there."

"You don't have to lie," Thorne points out, watching me squirm. "It's kinda hot."

In all honesty, I do sleep with that sweatshirt. In fact, I've been sleeping with it, wearing it, cuddling with it, ever since the day he gave it to me. Not that I'm ever going to admit that, or anything.

"Ugh," I groan, trying to make my face stop flushing and failing. "Can we just go now?"

"Sure, Sunshine," Thorne says, strolling out of my room. "I can't wait to tell all my friends what I just found out!"

I roll my eyes, hoping he's just kidding. Although, this is Thorne I'm talking about. It could go both ways with him.

I follow him out of the house, deciding I'll just have to wait and find out.

★★★

Everyone else is already at Charlie's house by the time Thorne and I show up. Charlie opens the door for us, and we walk into to see Jay, Wells, and Violet sitting in the living room, watching a football game on the TV.

"You suck!" Violet screams rather aggressively, hurling popcorn at the TV screen. "You call that a pass? How did you even make it into the NFL?"

"Gee, babe," Charlie teases, poking her girlfriend with her foot. "Since when do you care so much about football?"

"Since I bet Jay that the Eagles would win this game." Violet sticks out her bottom lip as she says, "If you can't tell, they're losing."

"Your ass is grass," Jay whoops, grinning at Violet. "And that twenty dollars is mine."

"Hey," Thorne says to Jay, pointing a finger at him. "A wise person told me never to be too confident." He smirks at me, and I roll my eyes, blushing slightly.

"Look who it is," Wells says, sauntering over to us. His eyes don't shift from me, and I can tell that Thorne notices too. "You look nice, Mia," Wells says kindly. I'm wearing a long-sleeved gray top and ripped jeans, which isn't that nice, but kind of him to say. Thorne, on the other hand, seems to have other thoughts about that. The way he's glaring at Wells—for whatever reason—makes me uncomfortable.

"Thank you," I say to Wells politely. "That's sweet."

Wells' hand is suddenly on my lower back, and he's saying something I'm not listening to. Not because I'm being rude, but because it's hard to hear when you're being jerked into the arms of someone else.

Almost the instant Wells touches me, Thorne yanks me into him. His arms wrap around my waist tightly, jerking my front into his. And then he's kissing me in a way I've never been kissed before, our tongues fighting for control before Thorne ultimate wins out. I'm so startled, I don't even know what to do with my hands. It doesn't even register in my mind that other people are watching us. Those people being Thorne's friends.

When we finally pull away from each other, Thorne keeps an arm wrapped protectively around my waist. He smirks at Wells as he says, "I was going to punch you for even thinking about Mia, but I figured seeing that would hurt a lot worse."

Wells' amber eyes are so wide they look like they're going to fall out. Violet smirks like she's watching the villain get brutally murdered in an action movie. Charlie looks a little startled, like she just got off of a roller-coaster. Only Jay looks perfectly at ease, as if he'd been counting the seconds until something like that happened.

"So," Wells regains his composure, smirking right back at Thorne dauntingly. "You asked Mia to be your girlfriend, then? Because, if not, she's still totally fair game."

I don't particularly like the way Wells just worded that sentence, but I guess he's right. Until Thorne officially asks me out, I guess I do have the right to flirt with whoever I want.

"Oh," Violet crows from where she sits on the ground across from Jay. "You just got told, Thorne."

Thorne clenches his jaw as he glares at Wells, clearly agitated. I get the feeling he doesn't like the way Wells just talked about me, either—which I find to be an oddly comforting thought. I don't know why, but I kind of like how protective he's acting.

Thorne exhales sharply through the nose as he turns to me, his gaze flickering over my features. Opening and closing his palms, Thorne pokes his tongue into his cheek, puffing it out. That's when I realize: he looks nervous. I never thought I'd see the day that Thorne Baxter looks nervous, yet here we are.

"Will you be my girlfriend, Mia?" I'm startled when Thorne blurts the question. I think we all are, honestly. It's suddenly so quiet in the apartment, I swear everyone can hear my heart beat.

As much as I want to say yes, I need confirmation that he's not just proving some stupid point. I need to know that he really, truly means the words; need to know that he genuinely likes me enough to make this—us—official.

I guess that's why I place my hands on my hips and raise an eyebrow as I ask, "Are you asking me to be your girlfriend to mess with me?"

Thorne's eyebrows fly up as he studies me, his eyes dancing all over my body. "Sunshine," he says in a chiding tone, taking a step closer to me. "I'm asking you to be my girlfriend because I want to be able to call you mine and take you on dates and kiss you whenever I feel like it and know that I'm the only person in the world who gets to do those things with you. I don't want anyone else." He takes my hand in his, the rest of the world fading to nothing around us. "I just want you."

I blink, noticing that my eyes are suddenly welling with tears. "You mean that?"

"Since the first time I laid eyes on you," he says. I think he's going to end it there. I don't know that he's being serious about that last sentence until he's adding, "We were both in the school parking lot. Your hair was down and blowing across your face, and you were wearing a t-shirt and black jeans with sneakers. You were standing by your car. You left right after I winked at you."

I process his words slowly, thinking back to the first day I saw him. I was, in fact, wearing that very outfit. My hair did blow in my eyes, making it hard to see him. I spotted him just before I was about to get into my car, and I sped off the moment I realized he was looking at me. The fact that he bothered to remember all of that at all makes my heart warm.

"Okay," I say, my voice shaking. "Okay. Yeah. Yes. I'll be your girlfriend."

I've never seen Thorne look so genuinely happy before, until now. He gives me that rare grin that drives me crazy, squeezing my hands in his as he plants a kiss on my forehead, making me grin, too.

"She said yes!" Charlie cries, as if I've just accepted Thorne's proposal.

"That was seriously so cute," Violet admits, smirking at Charlie. "It makes me want to ask you out all over again."

"About time," Jay grumbles, though there's a small smile on his lips.

"And . . . my chances are ruined," Wells mutters under his breath. Not like he really ever had one. For me, it's always been Thorne.

The next thing I know, Thorne's fist is ramming into the side of Wells' face—totally ruining the moment.