Thorne wants to go to his place after the dance, as Charlie said she'd swing by to bring me my change of clothes and the stuff I left at her house. I told my parents I'd be staying with Saige for the weekend, which Thorne and I both know means I'll really be staying with him. When we reach Thorne's place, however, it's not just Charlie standing in the front lawn. It's Charlie and Violet and Jay and Wells.

For some reason, Thorne isn't happy about this.

"Shit!" he mutters under his breath, slamming his hand against the steering wheel the moment he spots his friends. I recognize the look on his face as one of annoyance, his green eyes glaring at his friends through the wind shield. If looks could kill, I'd be pretty scared for Thorne's friends right about now.

"What?" I ask, raising my eyebrows. I don't think I've ever seen him regard his friends this way, and my curiosity only rises when Thorne curses under his breath once again, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel impatiently.

"Nothing, Sunshine," he says, not meeting my gaze. "Nothing at all." I can tell that he's lying, but I don't want to get into something with him now, when his friends are standing outside in his yard.

So instead of commenting, I step out of his car, giving Charlie and Violet quick hugs. Jay gives me a fist bump and says he likes my dress, which makes me smile. Wells lets out a low whistle when he sees me, nodding appreciatively. "You look amazing, Mia."

"Thank you," I say politely, blushing. Thorne gets out of the car then, walking over to the rest of us with his hands in his pockets. He still looks pretty pissed, and I still don't know what's up with him. He refuses to even glance at me, only further adding to my confusion.

"I see you brought the whole gang," Thorne says to Charlie rather sarcastically, shooting her a glare. Charlie shrugs as Jay says, "You in a tux, bro? There was no way I could pass seeing that up."

Thorne holds his hands out at his sides, spinning in a slow circle to let his friends see every inch of his suit. "There. You saw it. Happy?"

"What's up your ass?" Violet questions, raising an eyebrow at Thorne. She voices my exact thoughts, and I study Thorne warily as I await his response.

"Nothing," Thorne hisses, doing that thing where he puffs his cheek out with his tongue—which he only does when he's annoyed.

"I set your things inside," Charlie tells me, gesturing to Thorne's house behind us. "They're on the table. Did you guys have fun?"

"Yeah," I say, glancing at Thorne, suddenly wondering if maybe that's what he's so upset about. "Well, I did, at least. It was really nice."

"Hey, Sunshine," Thorne says in a softer tone than he was using moments earlier, finally looking at me. "I had fun, too."

"I never thought I'd see the day our little Thorne got dressed up and took girls to dances," Wells teases, punching Thorne's shoulder. Thorne rolls his eyes, not commenting, which is rather unlike him. I study him closely, wondering what's up.

"Is it getting cold out here?" Thorne asks suddenly, gaining everyone's attention. It's not that cold, considering it's December, but I do feel a chill. "I think it's getting really cold," he continues, grabbing my hand and pulling me toward his front door. "You should all go before you freeze. It was nice seeing you! Bye!"

"Thorne, wait—"

"Okay, then," Charlie cuts me off, whistling. "I can tell when I'm not wanted. Come on guys, let's go."

"Bye!" Thorne cries over his shoulder, opening his front door, pulling me inside, and kicking the door closed in one swift motion. In the commotion, I didn't even get the chance to tell everyone bye. I turn to Thorne with my eyebrows raised, wondering what's wrong with him now.

"What was that—" I start, going to ask Thorne what's suddenly gotten into him. Before I can even finish the sentence, however, Thorne's hands are on my hips, slamming me back into the wall—yes, actual slammage—hard, taking my breath away.

"Fuck," he practically growls in my ear. "You have no idea what you're doing to me, Sunshine." Then his lips are on my neck, heading north. He bites my ear lobe gently, kissing my neck again before I can even wrap my head around what's happening here.

"Don't leave any marks," I sputter as his lips find my jawline, his teeth grazing my sensitive spot. I can feel his hands in my hair, reaching for the bobby pins that hold my hair in place. He somehow manages to get my hair out of its up-do on the first try, sending my hair tumbling down my shoulders in waves.

"No promises," Thorne mutters into my skin, his hands sliding up my body. "Fuck, I need you out of this dress." I shiver, wondering why I haven't put a stop to this yet. Normally, I would have. But I hesitate for some reason, not opposed to taking this further. The thought scares me at the same time it lights up something inside me I've never felt before.

I can feel his hands on my back now, fumbling for my zipper as his lips connect with mine, kissing me fiercely. I'm too lost in him to care that my zipper is being pulled down, the straps of my dress starting to loosen. My dress starts to feel loose, the top half sliding down just enough to reveal more than an appropriate amount of skin.

Before things can be taken much further, there's a loud knock on Thorne's door. He doesn't acknowledge the sound, his mouth on the front of my throat, his hand tugging on my zipper which has somehow managed to catch on my dress. I'm not sure if the knock is a nuisance or my saving grace, as I'm too worked up to think straight.

"Thorne," I half-moan, half-cry, my hands lost in his hair. "The door."

"It's probably just Charlie," he mutters, dismissing the sound and hoisting me into the air, pushing me back against the wall again. "Ignore it."

When his lips find mine again, it's not hard to pretend that I never heard anything. A groan escapes his lips as he kisses me, his hand running up the skin beneath the slit of my dress. His touch sends me over the edge, my lips releasing a moan. Thorne pulls back, tugging at my still-stuck zipper once again, and suddenly I know that all I want is to be freed from this dress.

Whoever was at the door is suddenly knocking again, much forcefully than the last time. I try to ignore the sound, but this time the person is persistent. The knocks continue, hardly seconds passing between each rap.

"God dammit," Thorne hisses as he sets me back on the ground, looking like he wants to punch something. I pull my dress straps back up my shoulders as Thorne stomps over to the door, throwing it open and snapping, "What?"

I don't recognize the person who is revealed once the door is finally opened. From what I can make out, it's a man with dark brown hair and eerily familiar green eyes. He's dressed in a dark business suit, and when he smiles I'm startled by how much he looks like Thorne.

Thorne suddenly looks shocked, face pale like he's seen a ghost. He stands there, just staring at the man, for what feels like eternity. Finally, after forever, he sputters, "Dad?"

Just when I thought there was nothing in the world that could ruin this night.

★★★

"Hello, son," Thorne's father—Mark, I remember his name was—says, smiling like it's perfectly normal for him to be here, standing on Thorne's doorstep. I don't know much about Thorne's father, but I do know that he and Thorne have never gotten along. I guess that's why I'm on edge, wondering how Thorne is going to react to this situation. Knowing Thorne, whatever happens next isn't going to be good.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Thorne is practically seething as he asks his father the question, his hand twitching at his side like he's resisting the urge to hit something. I don't know what to do in this moment, finding that I seem almost frozen in place. I feel like I'm watching this moment from the outside rather than living it, and I don't know if that's a bad thing.

"Must I remind you that I pay the rent on this place?" I detect an undertone of mocking in Thorne's father's voice, and I can tell Thorne senses it too, only adding to his anger. The tension in the air is so thick I almost want to hold my breath, just waiting for Thorne to explode in anger.

Thorne doesn't respond to his father's little joke. He just stands in the doorway, his hands forming fists at his sides, his jaw clenched so tightly I'm afraid it might pop. I've seen Thorne angry multiple times in the time I've spent with him. But nothing like this. In this moment, he looks as if he could actually kill someone. He's never scared me before, but as he glares at his father I'd be lying if I said he didn't rattle me a little.

"Are you going to let me in?" Thorne's father asks finally, setting his hands in his pockets as if to make himself look less menacing. He's either oblivious to Thorne's anger or choosing to ignore it, and I find myself thinking that both could end up being dangerous ideas.

In response to his father's question, Thorne only lets out a bitter laugh, snarling, "I don't want to be anywhere near you."

Mark's gaze drifts past Thorne, his eyes widening when they land on me, as if noticing me for the first time. And he probably is. As Thorne's father glimpses at me, scrutinizing me with his gaze, I shiver. Suddenly, there are a million different places I'd rather be than here in this moment.

"Where are your manners, son?" Mark asks. I notice the way he refuses to call Thorne Thorne. "You didn't introduce me to your friend."

"Stay the hell away from her," Thorne snaps loudly, startling me. "Don't even look at her."

"Calm down, boy," Mark says, holding his hands out in an I-surrender gesture. "I just came by to talk. No need to get so riled up." It's clear as day that Thorne is way past the riled up stage. If anything, he's down-right murderous by this point.

"I don't want to talk to you," Thorne says stiffly, somehow managing to keep his cool. I get the feeling that he doesn't want to lose it in front of me. I wonder what would have happened by now if I wasn't around. The thoughts that rush through my mind at that are far from pleasant. "You might as well just leave."

"Son—" Mark starts, barely managing to get the word out before Thorne suddenly explodes.

"I said leave!" Thorne booms, cutting his father off, his voice echoing. A vein in Thorne's neck bulges, his fists clenched so tightly I know he's far from ready to break something. Mark stiffens, studying his son wearily. I watch the whole thing play out silently and with my arms crossed, almost forgetting that I'm actually here.

"Fine," Mark says after a long silence. "Since you have company over, I'll go. But I'll be back, and I won't leave so soon then." Mark gives Thorne a long, cold stare before turning his back on him and walking down the lawn toward his car. Thorne doesn't shut the door until he can no longer see his father's car, and then he slams it shut so hard the house literally shakes with the effort.

"Thorne—" I start, not knowing what else to say. I don't know how to approach him when he's this angry, and the thought almost hurts. I've never felt so unsure of how to handle a situation in my life.

"Don't," Thorne snaps. I know he's not really angry with me, but it still hurts to have him speak to me that way. I try to remind myself that he's been through a lot, that he needs time when things like this happen. "I can't," he mutters weakly, falling into one of his kitchen chairs, hiding his face with his hands. He sits like that for a long moment, seemingly thinking. I want him to tell me what's going on in his head. I want him to let me in. But I can't force him, and I know better than to try prying it out of him.

So, I don't talk. I just comfort him the only way I know how to. I wrap my arms around him from behind, peppering his neck with kisses before resting my head on his shoulder. He sits stiffly for a moment before his hand finds mine. He grasps my hand in his tightly, giving it a little squeeze.

"I don't want to talk to him," he tells me in a whisper. When he finally speaks to tell me what he's thinking, I'm elated. It's how I know that he'll allow me to comfort him, to be there when he needs me most. He has a history of pushing people out, of trying to keep everything inside. But I know better than anyone that it's so much better to let the pain out than to let it weigh you down, consuming you.

"I know," I whisper back, sensing his pain. I almost wish there were a way to transfer all that he's no doubt feeling onto my own shoulders, so that I could somehow ease the burden of pain he always carries around with him. But, since I know that's not possible, the second best thing I can do is just be there for him.

"I don't want to work for him," he says in a louder tone. "I never want to see him again." I know he's not just upset about his father's unexpected visit, but because of all the memories his father's appearance no doubt resurfaced. His childhood. His mother. Her death. Being relatively alone for the better half of his life. But he's not alone now, and I wish there were an obvious way to show him that I will always be there.

"Don't think about it," I whisper instead, pulling back from him. I take his hand in mine, pulling him out of the chair. "Take your mind off of it."

"I'm sorry," he mumbles, his gaze full of regret as he looks down at me. "I didn't mean for that to fall on you. I didn't know he was going to show up tonight."

"It's okay," I assure him, needing him to know that he's allowed to be upset and he doesn't have to worry about it bothering me. His eyes cloud, anger returning to his features.

"No, it's not. I just wanted to give you one perfect night, and I had to screw it up regardless." He presses his lips together, suddenly looking exhausted. I suddenly wonder what it must be like to live a life like the one he has, so full of pain and sorrow and weariness. It's amazing that he hasn't worn himself down or turned to substances to take his mind off of things, and the fact that he hasn't just goes to show how much strength he holds.

"Hey," I say softly, taking his face in my hands. "What are you talking about? I had the best time with you tonight. I wouldn't have changed it for the world." And I'm being serious. If anything, this has been one of the best nights of my life. Just getting to dress up and dance with him, to know what it's like to have a boy go to extremes just to make you happy . . . in my eyes, the night could hardly have been more perfect.

Thorne opens his green eyes, our gazes locking. "You mean that?"

"Of course," I tell him with a smile. "I mean, you wore a tux for me! It can't get much better than that!"

Thorne bites his lip, the corners of his mouth slowly curling into a smirk. I can tell that he's slowly starting to calm down, and I'm glad. For a second there, I thought he was going to break everything in his sight. I'm more than ready to see that smile of his that always seems to make me smile too, to hear his life-like laugh that's oddly contagious.

"I guess that's true," he murmurs, rolling his eyes. "Ugh. Come here, Sunshine." He pulls me toward him, burying me in his arms. He hugs me for a moment, kissing the top of my head. "I love you. You know that, right?"

"I know." And I do. He's proven to me time and time again how much I mean to him, and I can only hope that I'm half as good to him as he is to me. I've never felt so strongly about another person before, and it's almost overwhelming how much I love him.

With that in mind, I can't shake this weird feeling that starts to spread through my body. This feeling that this moment between Thorne and I is some weird sort of . . . goodbye. I mean, it's ridiculous to even think. Didn't we just tell each other how much we love one another? If anything, this is a moment that should bring us closer together. Still, there's this weird since of foreboding gloom drifting through my veins, making it almost impossible to look at Thorne.

Don't think like that, I scold myself angrily. You know that's not true. That could never happen.

But, as Thorne pulls away and looks at down me with a strange gleam in his green eyes that I've never seen before, I start to wonder if maybe I'm wrong.