“Well…” He shrugged. “It’s kind of a big deal.”

“I don’t see how.”

He stood quickly, nearly bumping into me as he crowded my space with his nearness. I refused to back away or run, even though both sounded like stellar options. “It means you’d remember me.”

“You would be hard to forget.”

“You mean that.” He said it like he was in awe or something.

“Of course I mean it. And before you go getting all arrogant, it’s a compliment. Okay? Something people say to other people, so they realize how great they really are. Which brings us back to the main topic of discussion. Right now you get this.” I held out my hand. “You get friendship. Now shake on it, and get out of this weird funk. It’s freaking me out and ruining your happy-go-lucky vibe. Meaning, if you keep acting like someone killed your dog, you aren’t going to be creative enough to even write a chord let alone a few more songs.”

His smile grew, his hand wrapped around mine. “I’m sorry, Fallon.”

He sounded sincere, my eyes narrowed. “A real apology?”

Somehow, he went from shaking my hand to wrapping an arm around my body as we walked back to the car. “I did think about last night.” He stopped walking and faced me. “Up until I fell asleep.”

His hand went from warm and strong to clammy as he tried to tug it away, there was a story there, something he wasn’t telling me.

“And?” I prodded.

“And, none of your damn business,” he said in a cheerful tone that told me it was okay to push, maybe not a lot, but more than I was.

We bypassed the car and started walking out toward the beach. It was big enough that he wouldn’t be noticed; at least I hoped not. I knew an area that had a few secluded caves. If the tide was out then we would at least have a bit of privacy, which he needed. Sometimes I needed it too.

Life was like that.

No matter your age or experiences, everyone needed a breather. Everyone.

We walked in silence, occasionally jumping over the small streams of ocean water. Finally, as the wind howled around us through the rocks, we made it to the first cave, and then around the cove.

I sat down first.

He followed.

Wind whistled in an eerie cadence as sand danced around our bodies, most likely getting into every crevice possible.

But he was already more relaxed.

Visibly, he had more color.

Though he’d gone from pissed to defeated.

“I had some bad dreams.”

“I used to have night terrors,” I offered. “They sucked, my parents would come running into the room thinking I was getting murdered, only to find me wide-eyed, on the floor, screaming at the top of my lungs.”

“That’s terrifying.”

“Tell me about it.”

“Don’t you grow out of that?”

“I did.” I shrugged. “Around eight or nine, which even then, it’s rare to have them that late in life.”

He frowned down at the ground. “Did you remember the dreams?”

“Never.”

“I remember mine.”

I held my breath, my chest built with pressure as it swelled inside my body, threatening to shake my careful control, I steeled my expression. “Last night’s? Do you remember it?”

He gave a silent nod.

“Are we talking nightmare where you’re getting chased by a giant marshmallow—you know, something that won’t ever happen—or something real?”

“Real.” He swallowed, his hands started to shake like the day before, only this time, I knew he wanted comfort—not a sugar fix.

So I held Zane Andrews’ hand.

Like I was important.

Like I was enough to keep him grounded.

And he squeezed it back—like that was true.

I stopped digging.

Instead, I focused on our hands, on the warmth of our bodies touching, and wished that we were two different people, that he was just a boy and I was just a girl.

Both going to college.

Both ready to start their lives.

Apart? And maybe together.

It would be nice.

Better than nice.

It would be everything.

“I was in seven foster homes,” Zane whispered. “After my grandma died.”

A thousand emotions slammed into me at his disclosure. I gathered them all and pushed them down, refusing to let them show on my face. It was hard, and eventually I looked away, worried something would show. “Well, that completely sucks.”

He shrugged. “I was a good student. So as long as I had a bed to sleep in…” Another shrug. “They don’t like splitting up families, but after she died, it didn’t matter anymore.”

“What do you mean?”

“Girls always liked me, gave me attention, I ignored them, focusing on music to get me through the night, and school to get me through the day.” He squeezed my hand, I looked up. “I think it turned into a game, the more I turned them down, the more they wanted me.”

Yeah, I could only imagine.

“Is that why you do what you do?”

“Pardon?” He pulled off his sunglasses; his eyes worked like laser beams, tracking my every movement.

Uncomfortable with the scrutiny, I cleared my throat and tried to keep the teasing in my tone. “You know, the sleeping around, is that why you do it? The whole Saint thing, the Confess Your Sins tour—”

“Someone really needs to take the power of Google away from you.”