O'Brien's bedroom is tidy. It's the second time I've been here, and just like the first time, there's no mess.

Given his chaotic personality and his devil-may-care attitude, I'm surprised. Maybe, just maybe, there's more to him than what he shows me and everyone else.

We judge others quickly without caring to delve deeper. Take Gavin with his ironed clothes and excellent grades. You'd assume he's a good guy. That's what I thought until he showed what he was made of. After all, O'Brien's right. I'm naïve, and he's...he's anything but.

"The way you're staring at my bed makes me want to show you the boy, Kitten. Be careful with me."

O'Brien's leaning against the door frame, and I'm gaping at his dark blue comforter. I didn't mean to, but I got lost in thought.

"I came here to watch a movie with you. You can show the boy to someone else."

O'Brien chuckles. "Of course, Princess. I had to try. So, make yourself comfortable."

He doesn't wait for me to sit and flops down on his bed, yawning. As he stretches, his shirt rolls up, revealing the well-defined stomach muscles. That alone flusters me. I catch myself thinking I've never been attracted to anyone in that way, which leads me to the recollection of Gavin's dirty offer, and just like that, I'm on the verge of tears again.

O'Brien pats the comforter next to him. "Come here. I was kidding about the boy. Okay, I wasn't, but he listens to what I say. He's not gonna break free, Kitten. These jeans are tight as fuck. You're safe unless you don't wanna be, and I can show him to you when it's your birthday. It's better than sleeping with Ferdinand; I promise."

O'Brien's words are outrageous, but I laugh anyway and lie next to him - too close to him because he doesn't move away and stays where he is.

"You have no filter, O'Brien."

He sighs. "And no fucks left to give, so that makes life way easier."

"You must care about something," I say. "Apart from the boy."

O'Brien chuckles and turns his head on the pillow. His face is inches from mine, and without knowing why, we stare into each other's eyes.

His are brown. They get darker when he's angry and look hazel, almost green in daylight. His lashes are nearly as long as mine. O'Brien's very far from ugly. All the opposite. He's handsome - a typical heartbreaker Mom's been warning me about for the last five years.

She might be on to something. He sleeps around, and I doubt a guy like him would want a girlfriend.

"I do care, Kitten," he whispers. "I care about my family and friends and this town cause it's where I was born."

"That's a lot of things."

"Yeah?"

O'Brien brings his hand to my face and takes a strand of my hair between his fingers, inspecting it. Then, he gently tucks it behind my ear. "What about you?" he asks. "What do you care about?"

I think about it longer than I thought I would. "My mom, despite our complicated relationship and her trying to control me."

"I get it. Although Mac's mother was the worst and didn't give two fucks about her kid, he was heartbroken when she overdosed and died. And I'm an asshole for saying it, but we were relieved. What the guy had wasn't life. He took care of himself and her, dragging her drunk ass to the shower and searching for her in town almost every night when she passed out somewhere, drunk or high out of her mind. At least your mother doesn't drink or use."

"True," I say. "I just want to be free and do what I want. Is freedom too much to ask for?"

O'Brien shakes his head and looks at me warmly. His fingers trace a pattern on my cheek, barely grazing my skin that turned crimson a minute ago.

The twinkle in his eyes mesmerizes me, but he breaks the spell and hops off the bed. When he's by the desk, he rifles through the contents of the drawer. O'Brien fishes out a notepad and a pen and returns to me, leaning against the assortment of pillows.

"What's that for?" I ask.

"We're gonna write Kitten's Bucket List. You're talking about all the things you wanna do, so let's find out what they are."

I grin. "Okay."

O'Brien writes one and says, "Seeing the boy goes here."

I smack him with a small cushion. He laughs and catches my wrist, smoothing his thumb over it. "You're thin, Kitten. I have to feed you better. So, okay, we'll move seeing the boy to position number ten. What's number one?"

"I want to see the ocean. I've never been to a beach."

O'Brien's eyes widen. "For real?"

I nod. He sighs and writes it down.

"I want to see the sunrise there. I also want to go to the cinema or to a concert. And I'd like to see skyscrapers. There's no way I'll travel to the city, but dreams are free, right?"

O'Brien listens and takes notes. After a while, there's a list with fifty items on it.

"Whoa, Princess, that's one hell of a list. You'd better start doing stuff. The clock's ticking."

I laugh. "I'm not gonna do any of that."

"Says who?"

"Travel by plane? Have an apartment? Drive a car? Leave the country?"

O'Brien shrugs. "It's all doable. What's on my list is harder to achieve, and I haven't lost hope, at least not yet."

"Show me?"

Chuckling, O'Brien reaches into the drawer of his nightstand and pulls out a notebook. I catch sight of the same bottle of pills, and he covers it with a crossword puzzles magazine. I'm intrigued by why someone like O'Brien would have crosswords, but asking him takes courage I lack.

He hands me the list. "I was drunk when I wrote it, so don't take it seriously."

"Okay." I smile, way too excited to get to know the guy next to me. The first line makes me grin. "Eat pizza in Italy?"

O'Brien grins. "Fuck yeah. Read on."

"Fuck on the beach," I read, and my cheeks heat.

"The stars haven't aligned, but the boy tried."

Laughing, I go through the remaining items. "See Jim play in an arena. Make a snowman. Pierce my ear. Watch the sunrise in Africa. See a tiger. Go to Norway. Get another tattoo. Learn to speak Spanish. Figure out who the fuck I am before it's too late. Keep the promise I gave Mac."

I stop and look at Brian, who's now lying with his arms propped behind his head. "What promise?"

He sighs. "I can't tell — not you, not anyone, so read on."

Only two lines remain — do something meaningful and become somebody.

I don't know what to say. Many of those things are unlike O'Brien. He must've been drunk for real.

"There you have it, Princess. All good resolutions, especially the fucking on the beach one. I might move it up on that list. Fuck first, eat pizza later."

"Just when I think you're serious about something..." I sigh.

"Who needs serious, Leah?" O'Brien smirks. "That's boring as fuck. A bit of laughter won't kill you. Other shit might, but not having a good time."

Truth is, I've laughed with him way more than I have with other people. His humor is peculiar, but being with him is never dull.

"Let's choose a movie," he says. "If you wanna watch sappy shit, I have a bunch here. Some have hot sex, so it's a win-win."

"I wouldn't watch that with you." I snort.

O'Brien wiggles his brows. "Why, Kitten? I wouldn't say no."

"Of course." I roll my eyes.

He chuckles. "Let me unmake the bed, Princess. I'd rather be comfortable in case we fall asleep."

"Wait, are you saying we're going to sleep together?"

O'Brien's lips stretch in a grin. "My bed's soft. Why would you want another?"

I shrug. "I don't know. It seems intimate."

"Nah, nothing like that. I'm not trying to get in your panties, Kitten. I just wanna have a good time and then sleep. Last night's insomnia sucked."

"Okay."

A moment later, the bed is unmade, and O'Brien stuns me by undoing the button on his jeans and shucking them off. His shirt follows, and the sight of him in nothing but a pair of boxers meets me.

I like his body. O'Brien knows it because his signature smirk is on his face, and he stretches without tearing his eyes away from me.

"It's hot. I don't wanna make you sleep with a sweaty dude. Come here."

We slide under the comforter, and I have no clue how to act. He'll think I'm uncomfortable if I keep still, which won't be far from the truth. If I move too much, I'll crash into the fine example of male anatomy called Brian. O'Brien decides for me. He grabs the remote with one hand and pulls me to him with the other. I'm lying in his arms, breathing in the scent of his cologne. His minty breath tickles my face when he says, "We're gonna watch Romeo and Juliet with a modern twist to it. You're gonna love it."

No words leave my mouth, but O'Brien doesn't seem to mind. He presses the Play button and fetches another remote from the nightstand. The blinds on his window close. I look up at him, and he chuckles, kissing my forehead.

"Relax, Kitten," he whispers. "We'll keep it PG 13 unless you wanna see the boy."

I can't help laughing. "Shut up, Brian."

Once the room is dark, we focus on the TV screen. Tension eases from my body, and I find the courage to drape my arm across Brian's waist. I snuggle into him, and he hums, nuzzling the side of my face with his nose and touching my cheek with his lips.

The kiss makes me squirm. Butterflies erupt in my belly, and I squeeze my eyes for a moment, overwhelmed by the sensations and our current position.

I'm supposed to stay away from him. I shouldn't trust him. He's not a boy I can be with. There must have been something extra in my coffee because I'm in bed with a semi-naked guy for the first time, and I don't feel weird.

I'm watching a movie and do nothing when he kisses my cheek and my temple, repeating the same thing several times.

I don't feel weird.

I feel alive.