The way he asks has me confused on how to answer. It almost sounds as if he feels obligated to invite me, and I don’t want that. Maybe he’s just worried about how I’ll cope with a new restaurant.

While he’s in his closet, I pull the blanket over his bed, smiling at the way it looks—pink frills and rainbows everywhere. I gather up the rest of my belongings and sit at the end of his bed, waiting for him. I don’t mean to be looking, but when his body passes in front of the slightly open door, I can’t help but see more of him than I’m probably supposed to—his abs just as defined as I remembered them from the first night I ran into him, and the muscular line of his torso diving deeper into a low-riding pair of sliding shorts that leave very little to the imagination. Seeing him—so much of him—is intimidating and has my pulse quickening.

“So, see ya later?” he says, finally standing at the door, his workout shorts on and a gray T-shirt in his hand. I blink, probably longer than I should, and the longer it takes me to respond, the more nervous I become. “Unless you’re not up to it…”

“No, I’d love to. Sorry, I was…” I was just putting the finishing touches on my mental portrait of your body, like a pervert, that’s what I was doing. Nate just smiles, but still not the complete smile from before. He comes closer, and when his feet are almost directly in front of me, I close my eyes, expecting the kiss that never comes. Instead he pats my head, like a little sister, and heads out for his morning workout.

Cass and Ty finally woke up around noon. I was hungry, and Nate didn’t have anything to eat in his room, so I forced myself to visit the cafeteria alone. My body didn’t react nearly as badly as I thought it would, but I still had to sit in the far corner, with my back pressed to the wall. I ate cereal, the box kind that you fold into a bowl, and I saved the box when I was done—my trophy for taking such a big step.

When I got back, my room was finally open, so I walked in and put my cereal bowl on the shelf by my desk.

“Saving up to win the prize?” Cass asks, pointing to the empty Sugar Loops box.

“Something like that,” I smile.

“So, how was your night?” Cass wants details, and I know she’s expecting my night to have been similar to hers. But I know it wasn’t. It probably wasn’t even close. But in many ways, I think it was probably a million times better. “Does that smile on your face mean what I think it means?”

“Noooooo,” I say, tossing Paige’s dress at her. “We just…slept. But it was really, really, really nice.”

“Hmmmmmm, sounds really, really, really boring,” she says, over exaggerating her frown to emphasize her disappointment. “Wanna hear about my night?”

“Oh god no!” I must be completely distracted by this new experience of having a girlfriend, because for some reason I start to change out of Nate’s clothes right in front of her, not even attempting to hide the hideous marks on my body. It’s not until I work my own pair of shorts up my hips and button them that I turn to face her and notice her staring. It would only make it worse to grab Nate’s shirt or my blanket and cover myself quickly, so I don’t. Instead, I just freeze, letting my arms drop to my side and turning even more so she can truly see.

“They’ve gotten better,” I say, the strength in my voice surprising even me.

“What happened?” she asks, folding up her legs to sit comfortably on her own bed. I think that’s one of the things I like most about Cass, the little I know of her so far. She’s blunt—in a way that cuts through the bullshit in life. Most people would dance around the questions, not wanting to hurt my feelings. But I’m starting to realize all of the hiding in the shadows does far more damage to my feelings than just showing the world who I really am.

I run my fingers over the deep divots a few times, sucking in my lips to keep myself together while I let the memories flood through me. Picking up my tank top, I slide it over my head slowly, pulling the bottom down to meet my shorts and hiding the proof of my story again.

“Two years ago, there was a shooting at my school. You ever hear of Hallman High?” This marks the second time I’ve told this story ever. With Nate, I was more cautious and emotional. But things are different with Cass. With her, I’m seeking an ally, someone who can explain away my weirdness when it comes unexpectedly—and it will come. It will come in droves.

“I think so. This sounds awful—but there are so many school shootings, I sort of get them mixed up,” she says, her face showing an apology that she doesn’t remember every detail of mine.