A few hours later, we wind up back at Thorne's place. It's been an emotional roller-coaster ride of a day, not just for Thorne, but for me too. In just the small amount of time since I first got to his house this morning to now, he's shared so much with me. He brought me to his favorite childhood place, cried in front of me, shared stories about his childhood, and even taken me to his mother's grave, bringing her red roses—her favorite flowers. He's opened up to me in ways I never fathomed he would and, though it's a lot to take in, it makes me extremely happy to know that he trusts me the way that he does. I never knew the first time our gazes locked that we would end up this way, but I'm glad we did. I'm glad the universe brought us together. I wouldn't change a thing if I could.

Right now, I'm sitting in Thorne's living room as he changes in his bedroom. It started to pour while we were still outside, and we both got thoroughly soaked. I changed into one of his sweatshirts, suddenly thankful for the fact that he's much taller than me. I can hear the rain beating down on the roof of his house, and I watch the way the drops trail down the windows across from the couch, like tears down cheeks. I've had enough sadness for one day, so I force myself to look at the TV which is playing some commercial I don't pay much attention to.

Thorne strolls into the room then, his wet hair sticking up in odd places. He wears a white t-shirt, revealing all of his tattoos, paired with sweatpants. He's got this weird gleam of determination in his eyes as they fall on me, drifting from the roots of my messy ponytail to my toes.

"I love you, Sunshine." Thorne just blurts the words casually, like they're so easy for him to say. Only, they're not so easy for me to hear. I just gape up at him and blink, wondering if he really just said what I think he just said. I mean—Thorne just said he loves me. That can't be, right?

"Thorne—" I start, still trying to comprehend what I just heard.

"Don't give me that you don't mean that shit," Thorne cuts me off, eyes trained on mine. "I don't give a fuck if it's too early to be saying that, or if I'm too young to know what love is, or whatever excuse people come up with to not have to tell people they love them these days. All I know is that I seriously love everything about you, Sunshine."

I blink, shocked. I don't know what to say. I don't even remember how to form words anymore. Thankfully, Thorne doesn't give me a chance to make a fool of myself.

"I love that I don't have to put on an act when I'm with you, Mia. I love how easy you are to talk to, how I can trust you so easily. I love the way it sounds when you laugh and the way it makes me feel when you smile at me after I say something stupid. I love holding your hand and being able to tell people that you're my girlfriend. I love the fact that my friends love you as much as I do. I love the way you look in my sweatshirt right now. Fuck, Sunshine. I just love you."

As he's telling me this, I'm more or less thinking the same about him. I love being with him. I love how he's somehow managed to turn me into the kind of girl that isn't so afraid of what it'd be like to live her life the way she wants to live it. I've been falling for him a little harder every second that we're together, but hearing those words come from his mouth just makes me fall head-over-heels.

"I love you, too," I whisper, knowing truer words have never come from my lips. I let out a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob as I add, "So much."

He pulls me into him, placing my hand over his heart. As soon as our eyes meet, I feel the way his heart starts to beat just that much faster. "I don't know how you do that," he whispers, talking about the way his heart is beating. "But it only races for you." And then his lips are on mine, my hands lost in his hair, his gripping my waist.

He's managed to steal my heart, and it's a scary thought at the same time it's comforting. Because now my heart rests in his hands, and it's up to him to make sure it doesn't get broken. But it's nice to know that there's a boy in this world who loves me, and I love just as much.

Thorne pulls away from me slightly, whispering, "Stay with me."

★★★

"He said he loved you?" I'm not sure how I'm supposed to feel about the question Charlie asks me, but it makes me smile. Her blue eyes are suddenly as wide as saucers, her mouth gaping open. For the first time since I met her, it's only the two of us in her apartment. I was a little surprised when she invited me over, but I accepted immediately, driving over right after school.

"He did." I nod, taking a long sip of tea from my mug. "It really took me off guard."

Charlie shakes her head, looking baffled and at a loss for words. "You don't understand, Mia. This is Thorne we're talking about." She purses her lips, as if thinking about what she's going to say next very carefully. "He's been through a lot, Mia," she tells me softly. "With his mom and his dad, the gangs, his arrest. He's a really reserved person. I've never seen him let anyone in the way he has with you."

"He's changed me, too," I admit softly. And he has, and for the better. I no longer think of myself as some invisible girl that nobody sees. I'm no longer afraid to say what's on my mind or to stick up for myself when the time comes. It's like all of the good traits Thorne has have rubbed off on me, and vice versa.

"I can see how much he likes you," Charlie tells me, smiling to herself. "The first time he brought you here, he wouldn't stop staring at you. You didn't seem to notice, but I recognized the look in his eyes immediately. It was like he was this sick little puppy."

I didn't know that. I had no clue the first time he brought me to meet his friends that he had been watching me that way. I had just assumed he brought me to his friend's house to get away from the party. I had no idea then that he was feeling toward me the way I feel toward him now. I'm not sure what I would have done if I did.

"He's done better since he met you, too," Charlie continues, a far-off expression on her features. "He's never done drugs or had an alcohol problem or anything like that before, as he's seen first-hand what those things can do to people. But he's always struggled with understanding that—just because he's done some shit—he's not a bad person. I think you're helping him see himself for who he really is, you know?"

Honestly, it's hard for me to envision Thorne finding himself through knowing me. It's hard for me to think that maybe I'm the reason he's starting to clean up his life, turning away from all the darkness he's been buried under.

"I wanted to ask you something about him," I mutter to Charlie. She raises an eyebrow, gesturing for me to continue. "He's told me a lot about his mom," I tell her, setting my mug down. "But he hasn't told me much about his dad. It's clear to me that he doesn't like him, I just want to know a little bit more about him."

Charlie purses her lips, clouds forming in her normally clear gray eyes. "Thorne's dad walked out on his family when Thorne was still a kid," she tells me in a sad tone. "He had an affair with the secretary at his office, who was way younger than him. His parents got a divorce, and Thorne's mom barely got anything. It was really conniving of Thorne's father to do, really. See, Thorne's dad knew that if he had a custody battle with his ex-wife, Gracelyn, over their son, he'd end up getting the materialistic things, like the house and a good bit of money. Gracelyn could never part with Thorne, and she won the custody battle. Thorne's dad sold their house for a shit ton of money and skipped town with his bimbo, leaving Gracelyn and Thorne on the streets."

Charlie takes a deep breath. "Thorne and Gracelyn ended up moving to the . . . lesser side of town, you could say. He moved into the neighborhood Jay, Wells, and I lived in, and that's how we all met. Thorne didn't have any interaction with his father at all, really, until a few months after Gracelyn died. This was after Thorne's arrest and getting expelled from school. It was like his dad suddenly wanted to be a part of his life, which even I find to be a little weird. Thorne doesn't want anything to do with him, though. He basically refuses to acknowledge his father at all. The only thing he keeps are the checks his dad sends him every month, you know, for child-support, or whatever."

"Why does his dad suddenly want back in?" I find myself asking, genuinely curious. "Why didn't he want to be a part of Thorne's life when he really needed him? When his mom was sick? When he was turning to drug-dealing just to get by?"

"Because." Charlie rolls her eyes, looking down-right disgusted. "Thorne's dad, Mark, runs this empire of a business. He's sitting on a throne of cash right now, and you better believe that there's nothing he won't do to protect it. A rival company has been trying to tear Mark apart for the past few months now. Mark's basically been pretending that the family he's with now is the only family he's ever had, acting like Thorne doesn't even exist. But the rival company has been digging up his past, so it's going to look pretty bad for Mark if he doesn't come clean himself. That's why he's been trying to rope Thorne back in, to make himself look better. If he can convince Thorne to forgive him—at least to the public—his status and money won't be threatened. He's even been trying to get Thorne involved in the company, but Thorne won't have it. You know how certain companies can run like mafias. Thorne doesn't want to get dragged into more shit."

I raise my eyebrows, processing that whirlwind of an explanation Charlie just gave me. To be honest, I can't blame Thorne for not wanting anything to do with his father. He sounds like a terrible man, inside and out.

"That's seriously messed up," I murmur, shaking my head. Charlie laughs sadly, nodding like she agrees. "You're telling me. But, Thorne should be okay. As long as he's really one hundred percent done with the gang he used to be a part of—which he swears he is—and doesn't associate himself with his father's business, he should be able to make it out just fine. Things are really looking up for him, you know."

I sit back in my seat, hoping beyond myself that Charlie's right.

★★★

"Where were you today?" I question as soon as I walk into Thorne's trailer, using the key he gave me. Both of my parents are still at work—it's three PM on a Monday, after all—so they won't notice that I'm not home. But Thorne didn't show up to school today, so of course I worried, which means I basically had to come check on him. That's the downside to dating a boy like Thorne Baxter: you're always worrying.

I set my keys down on his counter, spotting Thorne laying on his couch in the living room. He wears a gray hoodie and ripped jeans, his feet propped up on the edge of the couch. The TV remote is in his hand, and he stares at the screen mindlessly.

"That's the first thing you say to me after all day being apart, Sunshine?" he taunts, shifting so that he can look up me. "How rude."

I roll my eyes, crossing my arms over my chest. "I was worried about you, jerk," I mutter, relieved to see that he's at least okay. "I hate when you scare me like that."

Thorne mutes his TV, sitting up and running a hand through his hair. "I'm fine, Sunshine," he assures me with a smirk. He pulls himself up the rest of the way, standing and glancing down at me. He reaches for me, but I keep my arms stiffly crossed over my chest. I was so genuinely worried that he'd gotten himself hurt again, it's not even funny.

"Don't be that way, Sunshine," he says, stepping closer to me. I purse my lips, still needing a few more minutes to be mad at him before I give in. It's impossible to be mad at him for too long, and I know he knows this as well as I do.

The next thing I know, his arms are around my hips, swaying me back and forth to some imaginary beat only he can hear. "Every rose has its thorn," he sings slightly off-key, and I have to try my hardest not to break out into a grin. I know the song he's singing, and I know he's talking about the two of us: Mia Rose and Thorne Baxter.

He spins me as he changes tunes, suddenly singing, "You are my sunshine, my only sunshine." He draws out the next line, an adorable smile on his face as he spins me back into his arms, finishing with, "Please don't take my sunshine away."

I weaken, feeling the smile on my face as he sings for me, our gazes meeting. "Ain't no sunshine when she's gone," he sings in a low tone, making me laugh. When he's finally done with his impromptu concert, he kisses me on both cheeks before pressing his lips to mine sweetly, pulling away and asking, "Are you still mad at me?"

I sigh. How could I be, after all of that—whatever you want to call it. I shake my head, biting back a grin as I say, "No."

"Good." He kisses my forehead, tucking my hair behind my ear. "You wanna know why I wasn't in school today?"

"That's what I came here for," I mutter, rolling my eyes.

"You sure?" he questions. He has this secret, I-know-something-you-don't-know smirk on his lips, his green eyes gleaming as they trail me, waiting for my response.

"Yes, I'm sure!" I cry, shoving him. "Why? Did you do something"—my voice drops an octave—"illegal?"

"No, Sunshine," Thorne chides with a throaty laugh, falling back onto his couch and immediately pulling me down with him. "Nothing illegal. I think you're gonna like it, though."

Now I'm curious. Narrowing my eyes, I ask, "What is it?"

As if in response, Thorne pulls his hoodie over his head, revealing his bare chest. I watch in puzzlement, trying to figure out what he's up to now. Grinning, he holds his arm out to me, asking, "Notice something different?"

I study his sleeve of ink, my eyes wandering over all the different marks. The wave, the roman numerals, the strength sign, his mother's date of passing, a rose—wait, what? I back track, my eyes falling back on the odd image out. Studying his skin closely, I notice that the area around the rose tattoo is red and irritated, as if it's recently been messed with. The sketch is beautiful, a full red rose that's just opened up attached to a long stem.

"Is that . . .?" I trail off, the realization having just hit me. Only, it can't be. There's no way in this entire world that he would do what I think he just did.

"Yep," he answers smugly, adding, "I skipped today so I could go get this done. It's indirectly for you, actually. Because, you know, your middle name's Rose, and people call me Thorne. Thorns grow on roses, or whatever . . ." he trails off, obviously realizing that he's ranting. I don't really care, though. He literally got a tattoo—a permanent picture branded on his skin—for me. I couldn't possibly care less what he says right now. Actions speak louder than words, and this action is screaming at me.

"Do you like it?" he asks softly, prompting me to remember that I'm not dreaming right now.

"It's beautiful," I whisper back, wanting to run my finger over the ink, unable to believe that he seriously got a tattoo for me. "Can I touch it?"

Thorne chuckles loudly, the sound making me shiver. "Have at it," he says just as my skin makes contact with his. I run my finger over all the delicate little lines, wondering how I ended up with a boy so perfect to call mine.

"Thank you," I tell him, finally removing my gaze from the ink on his arm to look at him. "I love it." And I do. Nobody has ever done something so special for me before. It makes me like him that much more.

"I do, too." His voice is husky as he says the words, his eyes dancing over my face. I press my lips against his, feeling the urge to close the space between us. I want to feel his touch on my skin and his body beneath mine and just know that he's there. Suddenly, I feel so grateful to have him in my life I can hardly stand it.

Thorne's hands grip the back of my thighs, pulling me into his lap. Straddling him, our lips meet again, my hands running through his hair. Thorne moves his kisses to my neck, my jawline, my cheek.

"You're beautiful," he tells me, pulling away to look into my eyes. "I'm crazy about you, Mia. You're killing me."

I can feel myself starting to blush. I'm crazy about him, too. Sometimes I look into his eyes and find myself thinking it's ridiculous that he's actually mine. All I can think about is how much I like him, the feeling filling me to the brim and making me feel like I'm going to explode.

I cup his face in my hands, smiling as I say, "I love you." And I do. I absolutely do. And I know that I'll never feel the way I feel toward him about anything else in the entire world.