“My father looked like he was having a stroke— notthat Mel seemed to notice because he just kept talking.“Patrick needs a ride. No car, you know, and so I figured,hey, I can pick up some gas money.” He laughed. No oneelse did, and now Patrick looked like he was trying topush himself inside the door and hide.”

“I realized he had my car keys.“Hey, where did you get those?”“We found your purse at the Dairy Queen.”“How did you know it was there?”“The GPS.” He smirked, seeming more like the Jared I knew.“You have a GPS tracker on my car?”

“I scowled. I could resist it all I wanted, but I did understand what he was trying to explain. How sometimes he pieces of who you thought you were didn't add up to who you really were, like with me not standing up for Patrick when he wore those pants.”

“He's gawking at me when I open the door. "Damn girl," he says, looking me over, "what the hell are you trying to do to me?"I look down at myself, still trying to wake up the rest of the way and realize I'm in those tiny cotton white shorts and varsity tee with no bra on underneath. Oh my God, my nipples are like beacons shining through my shirt! I cross my arms over my chest and try not to look at him i the eyes when he helps himself the rest of the way inside. "I was going to tell you to get dressed," he goes on, grinning as he walks into the room carrying his bags and the guitar, "but really, you can go just like that if you want."I shake my head, hiding the smile creeping up on my face.”

“Purring wasn't going to be an issue if he kept looking at me like that. I was going to have a stroke.”

“Good," he said. "We need to talk." Suddenly, I didn't feel so relaxed anymore. Talk? What does he want to talk about? The part where I nearly died? I didn't want to talk about that. Because the fact is, that whole part, the part where I nearly died, well, I nearly died trying to save him. Seriously. I was hoping he hadn't noticed, but I could tell by the look on his face that he totally had. Noticed, I mean. And now he wanted to talk about it. But how could I talk about it? Without letting it slip? The L word, I mean. "You know what?" I said, very fast. "I don't want to talk. Is that okay? I really, really don't want to talk. I am all talked out. Jesse lifted Spike of his lap and put him on the floor. Then he stood up. What was he doing? I wondered. What was he doing? I took a deep breath, and kept talking about not talking. "I'm just--Look," I said as he took a step toward me. "I'm just going to give CeeCee a call and maybe we'll go to the beach or something, because really...I just need a day off." Another step forward. Now he was right in front of me. "Especially," I said, significantly, looking up at him, "from talking. That's especially what I need a day off from. Talking." "Fine," he said. He reached up and cupped my face in both hands. "We don't have to talk." And that's when he kissed me. On the lips.”