Unmasked

Finn's POV

I was already regretting this. I knew my parents were asleep by now, and hopefully, April was at least locked away in her bedroom, drawing. Thank God for Dad working early and Mom's seven AM run.

Unlike on our ride to Paradox, Valerie's hands weren't awkwardly clasped. She'd been drumming on her legs to whatever music the radio coughed up. The songs she knew were drummed to the beat. She had a good ear—even drunk. I pulled into my garage, the car gave its usual bump when we drove over an irregular dip on the cement. Valerie threw her arms in the air—her fists beat on the car's ceiling—making a whooping sound, like we were riding a roller coaster. God, I hoped she'd be quiet once we made it upstairs. Easing my car into its usual spot, I turned off the engine.

"Stay still," I instructed, giving a nasty look at her fumbling hands trying to unhinge her seatbelt. "Seriously, stop that. You'll rip it off."

She scoffed, but lifted her hands holding out her palms as if saying 'whatever'. I reached over and easily undid the seatbelt clasp, giving her a pointed look. Valerie reached down, grabbing her bag off the floor. I pushed a breath, hurrying outside to make sure she wouldn't trip and banged her head on a cement pillar. Valerie opened the door quickly, catching me in the chest—ow. Shaking it off, I rounded the door just in time to catch a tipsy Ice Queen from tripping over her own feet. She stayed still, gathering focus, gripping my forearms. After deeming herself steady enough, Valerie nodded to herself letting go and moving around so I could shut the door. After locking up, we walked for the elevator doors and two steps in, Valerie drooped to the side. I cursed softly, moving quicker, she plowed into my side. Her hands grabbed onto my shoulders, she was biting her lip, smiling.

"Whoops,"

"That's it, I'm throwing you over my shoulder." If she was going to stumble everywhere and eventually twisted an ankle or fell and hit her head, her Father would kill me. Or sue me. I wasn't sure which was worse when you were hoping to get into College.

"Ah, no." She held up a finger to my face. "I..." She paused, breathing deeply, glaring me half heartedly. I nodded for her to go on, lips hinting at a grin. "...do not need to be carried. I'm perfectly fine walking on my own."

"I guess you're right. Slurring is just the way you normally talk and you always walk around stumbling."

"Exactly," Valerie cheered, poking my chest. I sputtered a laugh when her eyes grew large, realizing she'd made a mistake. "I hate you."

"I know," I curled my fingers around her wrist, pulling away—she pulled me back, staying rooted. "Coming?"

"I thought... you were going to carry me?"

"I thought you said no."

"Until... we agreed..." She stopped, apparently swallowing something that left a bad taste in her mouth. I thought she'd throw up for a second, there. "Agreed on me being drunk." I gave a satisfied half smirk. Valerie shrugged. "It's a Queen's prerogative to change her mind, Finn."

I gave her props for the big words when she needed to pause before getting out a sentence.

"Well, the moment's passed now and my chivalry is dead."

She tugged me closer again. I went along with it, so she wouldn't stomp my foot or other—more sensitive—body parts. Valerie pouted, fanning her eyelashes at me, curling her free hand in my shirt. I sighed out, bending and in one fluid motion, I'd thrown her over my shoulder. I stood to full height, making sure she wouldn't slip off, hoisting her hips higher.

"Wha—I didn't mean as a caveman!" She hissed, slapping my back.

Valerie weighed on my shoulder as I strutted to the elevator doors. I pushed the call button ignoring her mutters. I was quiet climbing in, pressing the second floor button until I felt something smooth down my shirt—two hands.

"Are you feeling me up?"

There was bout of silence. Only the elevator's mechanism rung out.

"I'm drunk, not a pervert." Huh-uh, I thought, walking out into the hallway when the doors parted. Her bag hit my hip in a repeated motion. I could've pointed out this was the second time she'd felt me up—our dance at prom—but starting an argument would ruin our sneaking in.

I stood outside my apartment. I took Valerie's hips and gently hoisted her of me, lowering onto the ground. She kept an arm around my neck, afraid of falling was my guess. Finding the keys, I threw her a pleading glance.

"Please be quiet." I'd hate to have to explain this... situation I found myself in. It was pretty much unexplainable. "Okay, follow me and watch your step. Don't knock stuff down."

Valerie gave me an intimidating look. I could only describe it as Medusa's withering glare. Okay, then. I let in first after confirming there was no one awake. I tried to as quiet as possible locking up, then, I grabbed the Ice Queen's hand leading her across our living room/kitchen area, opening my bedroom door. Valerie walked in, looking around curiously, until I turned her around, marching her to my bed. The sooner she went to sleep, the less probable it was to get caught.

"Oof," Valerie rolled over, gazing in the dark at me. I saw a drunken smile. "At least buy me dinner first." A giggle. I sighed. "This is your room?" I answered yes. "Then where are you sleeping?"

"In Johnny's old room." I explained, going over to my dresser, pulling open the lower drawer. I grabbed a T-shirt that'd be big enough to hide her hips. I tossed it over, almost catching her in the face with it.

She reached for it, studying it. Valerie's eyebrows drew together at the sight of a stamped anime character with his face split in two. It was from one of my favorite anime, Bleach.

"Who's that?" It took me a minute she was asking about Johnny, not the character.

"My older brother." She made an awe sound. I dialed down a laugh. "Is that okay? I can find some sweat pants or gym shorts—" she shook her head, dropping my black tee.

"Where is he?" she asked, sounding five again.

"He moved out. He's living with his fiance."

"Aw, that's sweet. You're sweet." I stood still. She paused, tilting her head curiously. "Did I say that out loud?" I nodded, not trusting my voice. My cheeks were stained pink. I hoped she couldn't see it in the dark. "Well... I'm drunk. Drunk people tell truths. So, you're sweet." Val smiled widely. Like a kid at the promise of candy.

Finally, getting over the embarrassment, I chuckled.

"Promise not to leave this room until I come get you in the morning." Valerie leaned forward, her breath was all wrong. Sweet and bitter alcohol.

A finger touched my nose, "Okay," she bounced on her knees saying it, making my bed squeak. I grabbed her shoulders, shushing her. "Sorry..."

I rubbed a hand across my face. This had to be my worst idea yet. Valerie snatched her cell phone out of her bag, writing someone a text.

"Are you drunk-texting?"

"No," she hit sent before looking up at me from under her eyelashes. "I was texting my Dad. Saying I'm staying over at Ava's" Oh. Good call. Maybe the drunkenness was wearing off—she gave me some sort of wink, blocking a batch of laughter with her hands. Or maybe not. "I'm sorry—I'll keep quiet, I promise." She zipped her lips and threw an imaginary key over her shoulder.

"Okay," I nodded, slowly. Unsure what to think of this... version of Valerie. "So... goodnight."

"Right," she whispered extra low for good measure. "Goodnight, Finn."

I edged back—my leg hit my beanbag. I thought I saw a smile flash on Valerie's face. Rubbing my neck, I turned around, heading for the door. Once I'd crossed the living room into my brother's bedroom, I unbuttoned my shirt, shrugging it off. Next, kicked off my shoes and shimmied off my jeans, throwing them over Johnny's old desk chair, beside the white shirt. Lucky me, Mom always made my brother's bed in case he wanted to crash, so, I pulled back the duvet and settled into fresh sheets.

I slid an arm under the pillow, staring at the ceiling. It was summer break. No one ever woke me up during holidays. If Valerie kept her promise, I'd be able to sneak her out. No one would ever know I'd brought home a girl. I exhaled deeply until all the air was pushed out and I was empty. If only my mind was the same.

Void.

Instead, I was forcing myself to lie in my brother's bed thinking about my own. The first time a girl was sleeping in my bed... and I wasn't in it. With her. Never thought that'd be the case. My eyes slipped closed as I fought against a heavy groan, biting the inside of my cheek when all I saw was Valerie's laugh. The one so genuine it was childlike, so overwhelming. I didn't get how someone who could lit up a whole barn could act so coldly. Not to mention all her other drawbacks. And yet, despite all of those, I found my hand going under the covers, adjusting myself. Thinking about her in those jeans—or wearing my shirt—wasn't helping.

I twisted and turned for minutes before I threw open my eyes and rubbed them. This wasn't going away. I pushed the covers over, rolling to the side, rubbing a spot on my chest. My brother would murder me if he found out about this. Sighing, I opened the drawer on his bedside table. Tucked in the back was a box of condoms. I pulled one out, ripping the square, pulling the lubed latex out. Slipping off my boxers, I propped the pillow and leaned back, pinching the condom's reservoir at the rip—like they taught in sex Ed—and rolled it down my erection.

Yup, I was going to spend the night with my hand wrapped around my cock. For Valerie Monet.

Valerie's POV

There was this strange smell—not bad strange, just... unusual. My pillows always smelled like vanilla, my body lotion. These smelled like sandalwood. My eyes fluttered open—I winced, curling in. Too much light, too bad of a headache. I pulled the pillow over my head, shielding my eyes. Slowly, I squinted at the unknown bedroom. Four brick walls surrounded me, I braced myself on an elbow, sitting up. I made a face, covering my eyes with my hand. Kicking off the tangled sheets, I scooted to the edge of bed, getting up. I headed to the only window and eased the blinds shut—enough so I could still see. When my skull didn't feel quite on the verge of cracking, I wrapped my arms around myself, looking around.

Behind the bed I'd slept on were four shelves carved into the brick wall. The lowest shelf was stacked with... Video games and movies, I think. The others had books and CD's. On the bed's right, was a side table with a vintage rotary telephone. I smiled at the sight, walking over, tracing a finger over the cherry-red corded phone. How awesome was this? Slowly, I remembered what happened last night, though. I dropped my hand.

This was Finn's bedroom. Becoming self-aware, my hands touched the t-shirt going a little past my hips. God, I was wearing his clothes.

I could hear someone outside—and the TV? I... promised I wouldn't leave until he came around. I sat on the edge of his bed, grabbing my phone off his nightstand. Almost midway. Wow. My eyes wondered off, registering a small desk and chair on the right side of bed, a black bean bag was perched in front of a dresser, where a TV and a PS3 sat, along with colognes and... were those darts? Off to the side, between the dresser and closet, hung a dartboard. Huh, I'd never imagined Finn's room, but if I had, it wouldn't have looked like this.

A while after, I was lying back down, hands on my stomach staring fixedly at the ceiling. Waiting. When I checked my cell again, about thirty minutes had gone by. I frowned. I couldn't hear anyone outside now. Maybe Finn was still asleep? I bit my lip. I needed to use the ladies room. Like fast. Deciding this couldn't wait, I texted Finn. Hoped he wasn't one of those people who put their phones on silent mode during the night. When he didn't answer, I got fidgety. And... curious. I swear the only thing I did was open his closet—I did it, praying I was wrong and it wasn't a closet, hoping it was actually a bathroom, but it wasn't.

Then I looked down. First, I was just checking out his shoe collection—his almost rivaled mine—before I saw a carton box labelled SWIM TEAM. Could you blame me for looking inside? At St. Joseph, Finn's reputation was of a scholarship kid and an outcast. Why would he have something labelled swim team?

I opened it gently, gawking at what I saw. There were two medals and a blue ribbon for a first place in some swimming category. Underneath, was a folded jacket. I was staring at it open mouthed. Finn was an athlete—an actual good one? My phone buzzed, startling me. I closed the box, getting up and shut the closet. I all but tip-toed toward the bedside table, snatching the lit iPhone, punching in my code to read Finn's text.

2 mins

I groaned, running a hand through my ebony hair—my very messed up, knotted hair. God, I usually went to bed after brushing it. A reminder popped up: Meeting 2 o'clock, Ms. Coleman

Aw, shoot.

How could I forget about that? Ms. Coleman—Lydia—wouldn't like if I called to reschedule. Again. For the third time this week. I wasn't trying to ditch our inspiring talks. Lydia was one of the nicest people I'd ever met, after about two years of kicking and screaming—not in the literal sense—I'd finally succumbed to talking. Though, like Lydia enjoyed pointing out, I was a crappy listener. Not her exact coddling words, but I got what she meant. Bottom line: no switching sessions again. Me and her had a nice relationship—she used to give me lollipops—but she'd call Dad if I cancelled again this week.

"Jesus!" I jumped, phone almost clattering to the floor. I spun around. Finn was closing the door behind him, wearing the shirt and jeans from last night. No shoes. His shirt was wrinkled, like he'd tossed it somewhere instead of folding it. Which… I spied a glance at my own thrown clothes on his chair. "You scared me half to death."

"Huh…" he mumbled quietly. Gray eyes were glued on me. I crossed my arms feeling self-conscious. "Yeah, sorry about that. I would've knocked—"

"It's fine. I wouldn't. I mean, it's your bedroom."

Finn scratched his cheek, then walked over to his dresser. His back was to me. His broad back. Broad… from swimming? Finn pushed off his shirt letting me have a nice view of his muscles. Muscles along his neck and lower back flexed and rolled as he pulled a clean shirt over his head. Gawking wasn't okay… but it took me back to art class, when I'd watched him paint.

Shaking myself out of weirdly delicious thoughts, I cleared my throat.

"I… need to use your bathroom."

Finn closed the drawer, whirling around.

"Sure. Everyone's out," he stepped out and nodded me along, standing just outside his door. I pinched my lips getting up, making sure his t-shirt didn't ride up my hips. Even if I was wearing my undergarments—all of them. Note to self: sleeping in a bra was very constricting. "My Mom made breakfast… bacon and scrambled eggs? Do you like that? I know it's probably not what you're used to—"

"I love eggs. I don't really like bacon, though."

"Ah, okay…" he pointed to a door on the far side of the kitchen and living room area. Bathroom. "Do you want cereal then?"

I frowned. It might sound stupid but… I'd never actually eaten the stuff. Growing up, breakfast had always been picked out for me. Ranging from fresh fruits like papayas, kiwis, mangos—whatever exotic fruit Simone decided to order—French scones and croissants, freshly squeezed juice or when I got older, coffee.

I gave a measly shrug when he tilted his head, grabbing two brands of cereal out of a cabinet above him.

"Cocoa Puffs or Fruit Loops?"

"You decide." I shrugged again, turning, going for the bathroom at a hurried pace. The tiles felt freezing under my bare feet. Giving a big sigh and scrunching my eyes for courage, I faced the mirror hanging above the sink. Disheveled—as expected. My red lipstick was rubbed off, some was smudged across my left cheek and chin. Great, Matthews saw me looking like a clown.

First things first, I needed to pee. Before I lost my bladder and my remaining dignity. A minute and flush later, I was washing my face furiously, trying to wipe any vestige of my signature lipstick and sleep. Too bad I couldn't do a thing about my insufferable headache. I reached for a hanging towel, wiping my face. With my hair still a mess, I breathed deeply, hand on the bedroom's knob.

Finn was leaning on the kitchen's island, eyes on the microwave, until his head snapped and his eyes found me awkwardly making my way over. I took a seat where a cereal bowl was set down, spoon already inside.

"I had a hunch you'd want Fruit Loops."

"Why?" I asked genuinely curious, forgetting the embarrassment for a second. I watched the colorful cereal float as I moved the milk.

"Because we only buy it for my sister and she's a brat like you." I lifted murdering eyes. His lips kicked up a notch. Good thing the microwave pinged, calling him away. I took a spoonful to my lips, hesitating. I ate it. I crunched it around, not actually… hating it. "What do you eat for breakfast, anyway?"

Finn sat at the head of the island, a plate of heated scrambled eggs and bacon in front of him along with a mug filled with coffee. I swallowed, crossing a leg.

"Not caviar if that's what you're thinking."

"Foie gras?"

"I'm surprised you know what that is, Matthews." He smiled tightly at the sarcasm. The spoon-free hand was curled in his t-shirt's fabric, under the island. "I eat fruit. Croissants—sometimes with jam. And I drink coffee."

Finn said nothing, forking a large quantity of eggs into his mouth. We ate in silence. Until he ate a strip of bacon and I couldn't stand not speaking.

"I'm sorry," I said slowly, pushing to look nonchalant about it. Faltering a little when Finn's finger reached out—his thumb wiping under my lower lip. His eyes stilled on mine like he wasn't sure what he was doing or why he'd done it.

"You had a—"

"It's fine," I snapped. This couldn't get any more uncomfortable. "I'm sorry," I forced my face into its less heated counterpart, wanting to channel the Queen. "I sort of… kicked you out of your bedroom last night. Plus… I got really drunk, which wasn't fair to you."

"Well, you didn't puke. It helped salvage some of the night."

I glared down, dismayed. I could remember—faintly—wanting to throw up. Yuck. Against all odds, I ate until there was no cereal left. Finn eyed me every ten seconds, I felt it. Heavily.

"What?"

"Nothing," he ate the last of his eggs, putting down the fork and taking another swig of coffee. God, I wanted two mugs filled to the brim. Or a box of Tylenol. "My sister's out with friends, she's not coming home for lunch. Mom will be home soon, though. She's cooking. So…"

"You need me gone."

"Yep," he drawled, cracking his fingers.

I rolled my eyes at his breezy attitude. Like I was a nuisance he couldn't wait to get rid of.

"Alright. I'll go and get changed, I have an appointment, anyway." I got up and heard him sigh. I looked over a shoulder in time to see him pick up my bowl, walking for the washing machine. I blushed. Simone or some other maid always cleaned up after me, I wasn't used to… not having someone on beck and call. I rubbed down an arm, finding the bracelet from last night—tightly placed over my wrist, hiding the scar. "Do you think you could give me a ride? It's at two in the afternoon. I completely forgot about it with graduation..."

Finn closed the washer. Strolling up to me until we had five inches between us. I pretended not to know the lean muscle dips the baggy t-shirt was concealing.

"Sure, your highness. I promised your Dad I'd get you home safe and sound."

"It's just to my appointment, I can get a cab after—"

"Nope. I didn't go through all this trouble to keep your pretty, drunken ass safe for you to hail a cab and possibly get run over or kidnapped."

"Oh, please. Like you'd care?" I threw out my hands. "And that wasn't my fault. Christian was high!" I kept to myself I hadn't looked sideways before crossing.

Finn drew in his shoulders saying he didn't care. Argh. I wanted to stomp into his bedroom, but I remained calm. A calm ticking time bomb—ah! I refused to throw the door shut—since this wasn't my house and I did have manners. I eased it shut and quickly took off his tee, reaching for my top. When all clothes were back on, I twisted my hair into a bun. A messy one, but it was the best I could come up with, under the circumstances.

It was almost one thirty when I stepped out. Finn was sitting on the couch watching TV. He got up, clicking the TV off, dumping the remote on the couch.

"I just have to put on some shoes." I nodded, gripping my bag strap a little harder when his arm brushed up against mine. I'd curled up my shirt sleeves, so, our skin touched. It was… warm. Like when we'd danced.

We were in Finn's red Chevy five minutes later, with me giving directions to Ms. Coleman's building. As we stopped in traffic, I sent a quick text to Lydia's secretary saying I'd arrive a little late. Then, my mind swam to Finn's house. Sure it wasn't a duplex stuffed with pricey furniture, Persian carpets, marble floors, bathrooms and walk-in closets in every bedroom, but I'd found it nice. Cozy. A well lived place—a home. I'd been to Ava and Trip's apartment—I'd helped decorate—it was small. But sometimes it wasn't about the size, it wasn't about what laid inside, it was about who you shared it with. Dad and Simone were my oldest company, but Dad spent most of his time in meetings, reading over investments or traveling and Simone was still the help—though I never actually thought of her that way. In a lot of ways, she was like an aunt. Maria was the most recent addition to the family—well, her and her good for nothing son—I liked her. But… Well, I shouldn't complain, despite the loneliness inside such big four walls, I was a privileged person.

A sad smile crippled my lips. How I wished money could always be enough.

"Over there," I pointed to a tall building with glass doors. The outside wall was covered with plaques with various names, from various offices. Lawyers, eye doctors, a dentist clinic on two floors and my psychologist—etcetera. Finn found an open spot a few feet down the street. "You can leave. I'll catch a cab and tell my Dad you were a very good boy." I half mocked. Although I was impressed by Finn's maturity. Jackson would've gotten me in a room and ravaged me, I thought with disdain.

Finn leaned back into the seat, watching me, a hand on the wheel, the other arm resting on my seat.

"How long will this take?"

I huffed a breath feeling compelled to lie. For some reason, I told the truth.

"About an hour."

"Okay," Finally! He was going to leave— "I'll wait here for you and afterwards, we'll grab something to eat. Your treat."

"Wait—what?"

"You owe me for last night." He lifted a shoulder dropping it quickly, in total laziness. "Hell, you owe me more than lunch, but I'm a nice guy." He smiled sweetly like pure sugar. Oh, if there were a dog mob around I'd throw him like a juicy bone.

"Seriously? You better be gone when I exit that building, Finn. Gone." There was no more derailing argument before I bolted, smirking when I heard him grunt because I'd slammed the door.

I rode up to Lydia's floor, trying not to plow inside the office when her secretary waved me in with her no-nonsense glare. Lydia's office was messy. The first couple of times I'd come here as a kid, I'd been completely baffled. My house and bedroom were always neatly organized. My therapist's office was clean, but totally disorganized, with folders on her desk, some paintings askew, including her Harvard diploma hanging on the wall. Ms. Coleman was reviewing someone's file—too thick to be mine—when I closed the door behind me.

Her blond hair was in a tight bun, less messy than mine, and it bobbed slightly when her head tilted upward. A joyous smile lit up her face, like a long-date friend had arrived. Well, she knew me since I was a kid, I'd been one of her first patients. This reaction wasn't weird at all.

"Valerie, honey, I thought you'd forgotten our session." Okay, tread lightly here, Valerie. Ms. Coleman's personality was often stuck on happy-puppy, but beneath her sweetness I knew she was completely professional and sneaky. It all came from a good place, though. "Sit down and oh! Congratulations! How was graduation?"

I sat down, setting my purse on the unoccupied armchair beside mine. I willed myself to stop freaking out and breathe deeply—still wishing I'd had two gallons of coffee to make this splitting headache go away.

"It was nice, I guess. I didn't trip over my feet when they called out my name."

Ms. Coleman chuckled, used to my wry sense of humor.

"That's good. Was your family there?"

Since Dad remarried, Lydia had started using the term 'family', before it was always 'your Father'. I tried not to show any change, especially when I remembered Jackson was part of the term. How innerving.

"Yep. They were all there. Dad hugged me and told me how much he wished Mom could've been there." I paused when Lydia didn't say a word, fingers linked together, listening. "I… When I got my diploma… I wished I could've seen her there, too, in the crowd? She would've filmed the whole thing." And Mom would've made sure we'd gone out for lunch, together, as a family. I shoved the tiny bitter feelings down. It wasn't Dad's fault his work was so endless. "I know my Dad loves me. And I really like Maria—"

"I sense a but coming on." Lydia supplied, trying to alleviate the tension in my bones. I felt myself relax. Just a tiny bit.

"But," she grinned and I snorted a weak laugh. "He's been away longer. Away from me. I know this sounds selfish and whiny," because that's how the Ice Queen sounded. "But I miss him. He's been spending most of his free time with Maria. I'm happy—I am—sometimes, though, I get… jealous. I don't… like it. To feel that way. I want Dad to be happy. He never dated anyone after… after Mom."

Lydia held up a hand, face taking a turn into serious territory.

"Honey, it's alright to feel jealous. It's not a crime to have emotions and I can assure you everyone in the world feels jealous: of their parents, their siblings, their friends, even of stranger. The reasons why are endless and often, yes, they're shallow and uncalled for. Your reasons aren't petty, Valerie. If you waltzed in here saying your Dad wouldn't give you a Prada bag and you absolutely wanted one because all the other girls had it, that would be wrong. Missing your Father isn't wrong and you shouldn't beat yourself up for wanting to spend more time with him. The fact that you've taken Maria in so quickly and accepted her into your home like you have, shows you're a good person, with a good heart." Right. The gentle girl with a good heart. This was Lydia's recurring reassurance to me. To see if I'd finally drop the Ice Queen charade. I wanted to, very much. It was just… complicated. "You should talk to your Dad, I'm sure he'll make time if you ask. He's a good man." Yep, he probably would. But I'd feel guilty for stealing him away from Maria.

"Okay," I told her, knowing eventually I'd say something to Dad. Probably. "I went to a bar afterwards. You know, to celebrate."

"That explains why you keep rubbing your temples." Ms. Coleman noted, a slightly disapproving glare aimed at me. Huh… whoops. Sometimes I wanted to run from a subject and just ended up dragging myself into a deeper hole. The glare dissolved slowly into curiosity. "And who did you go with? Friends? Maybe… a boyfriend?"

I regretted this. It was my fault and I was woman enough to admit it.

"With friends."

"Have you mentioned those friends to me?"

"Yes," not exactly by their names, but I'd mentioned them.

"Alright. How was it? Did you have a good time?"

"It was…" I thought about the multiple drinks, how deliriously free I'd felt when everything was spinning and how Finn had thrown me over a shoulder at his garage. I pursed my lips, exhaling through my nose. "It was different. Yeah, I… It was fun."

"Any reason in particular?" Lydia settled back into her office chair, smiling shrewdly. God, it was like she saw into my mind and knew there was something I didn't want to tell her about—or someone—but at the same time, knew I wanted to talk about.

"Drinking?" I supplied meekly, chuckling. Lydia squinted her eyes. Dammit. "First of all, I'm eighteen, a legal adult—"

"True. But the legal drinking age is twenty-one. But I'm overlooking that fact because you never indulge in such behavior." That was true. True-ish. As far as Lydia knew. "And because it was your graduation. Secondly?" she asked.

Oh. Yeah. I had to talk about it with someone. And Lydia was paid to listen to me and not share with anyone else. No offense to Ava, but I knew she'd possibly tell Thomas and this was… I wasn't sure what it was.

"There's this guy," I blurted. My cheeks grew hot under Lydia's triumphant gaze. "His name's Finn. He goes—went—to school with me. And, well, I never actually paid attention to him because… he's not on the popular side. Like, he isn't an athlete and he was on a scholarship because his family isn't wealthy. I either ignored him or made fun of him."

"Something must have changed."

"Yes. Obviously." I wasn't going to tell her that Finn had saved me from getting run-over. She might think it was some lame suicide attempt. That I'd been standing in the middle of the street or something. Gingerly, I rubbed my bracelet, the scar's image popping up. "I started... actually looking at him and now, well, I don't know. I let him have the first dance with me at Prom. I… liked dancing with him. I think. He makes me angry, though."

"Why?"

"Because he thinks I'm a spoiled rich kid with no emotions."

"To be fair, Valerie, that's the façade I've telling you to drop since you were thirteen. It's not a coping mechanism anymore, it's a way of keeping people away from you and punishing yourself in the process." Ms. Coleman said the worn words for the millionth time.

I bit the inside of my cheek. The Ice Queen wasn't fun to play, it was lonely. She was right. But it was also safe. No matter how much I wanted to peel the Queen skin off, I was afraid because I knew what happened when people were let in. Sooner or later, they left.

"Fine. I get it. But I've been nice to him. Sometimes." I crossed my arms, making myself smaller and comfier on the chair.

Lydia sighed, "I think it's great that you're interested in… Finn?" I nodded.

Wait—interested?

I wrinkled my nose, "I'm not… interested."

"Of course you are, honey. The last time you told me you were nice to someone was…" Lydia fell into silence, shrugging. "I don't remember the last time." She joked. Ha. Ha. Ha. "But being interested doesn't mean romantically, he can be a friend, right?" Sneaky-Lydia was swimming in circles with her shark senses.

"No, it's stupid. We have nothing in common. He lives in Brooklyn." I said, quickly hating myself. I didn't care where he lived, not really.

"Right. Well, my fiancé and I are pretty different. Especially when it comes to keeping things tidy. See my office? Every time he swings by, he tries to organize it." I felt sorry for him… I wouldn't know where to start organizing these folders and loose papers. "I love tuna and he can't stand the smell of it." My psychologist snickered, looking like she was remembering a funny joke. "So, you see, not having things in common isn't a necessarily bad. I always thought it gave relationships some spice!"

Hmm. Maybe Lydia wasn't completely off course. I mean, Jackson was my Ice Queen's other half, shallow, bossy and uncaring of feelings as long as he got what he wanted. A little too uncaring. Rage simmered when I remembered the handprint he'd left and how I covered it up with foundation.

"Valerie? Are you listening?" I blinked. My fingers were digging into my elbows fiercely and I was holding a big breath. No thinking about the jackass, I chanted. I nodded. "You've been excited for high school to be over because you wanted a fresh start. Face the world as you truly are, not some made-up identity. I think it's a good time to start. Don't you?"

Much like with Ms. Coleman's office, I didn't have a clue where to start shredding the 'farce' as she called it. I was comfortable in this Queen Bee skin. Detached and alone, sure, but it also gave me strength to be a bitch and survive.

"I know," I mumbled anyway. My bronze eyes pinned the window behind Lydia. It was a nice day, sunny. I loved summer. "But it's hard."

My therapist cocked her head, "Valerie, I don't think it's hard. I think you want to drop the act and be yourself. You're just scared of what happens afterwards."

Could you blame me? My mother had been my best friend. The person I loved more than anything, as much as a kid could their Mother, I'd loved her. And loved. And I'd lost her. Just like that… One day she was there, the other, she was gone. No more recitals, no more bedtime stories, no more seeing her warm smile, no more jumping into bed to wake her up. She'd just… vanished. It hurt like hell. It hurt even more knowing that no matter how much you loved someone sometimes… there was nothing you could do for them to stay, because you had no real power over what happens.

"I think—sometimes—I wonder why my Mom died. Everyone loved her. She was the kindest person in the room, she was… always delicate and forgiving. How could… " I stopped, inhaling and calming myself. "Someone that good didn't deserve to get sick. It's not fair. She was always good. But it didn't matter, right?"

"Your Mother was religious, wasn't she?" Lydia already knew the answer was yes. "I know you think God or some higher power can't possibly exist, or if it does, it's just cruel. Because your Mother never did anything to deserve her life getting cut short. Are you afraid the same will happen to you?" Again, I didn't speak. Glared on ahead at her bookshelves. "I know you're a lot like her, your Father told me. And after you lost her, you didn't want to be like her anymore."

I gritted my teeth. I liked Lydia, but she was getting into serious business and I didn't appreciate it. I guessed that's the reason why after all these years I was still in therapy. Because I could do sharing and talking openly about any subject, unless it got too deep into my loss and change in behavior. First, I'd been sent to therapy because I'd cut my wrist. Lydia helped me work through the experience, showing why it'd been wrong. Then, I'd adopted a new identity. Lydia didn't think it was too bad, a way of dealing with grief. But I'd incorporated it completely, driving whatever good qualities into an iron volt.

"We've been over this," it wasn't often that Ms. Coleman looked sort of exhausted. She rubbed her forehead, her shiny engagement ring reflecting the sunlight coming through the window. "We've been running in circles for a while now, honey, and I can't help if you don't take a first step. Deep down, you don't want to be this person and the fear you have of losing people is… Well, losing people happens. It's part of life. I know you're scared to let yourself be like your Mother, that you're afraid the same thing will happen to you, but you have to work against those feelings. They do nothing but hold you back."

Mood souring, I listened to her motivational speech and nodded along, unconvinced. Lydia knew this, but when the hour was up, she still smiled and told me to wait when I was clearly dying to run outside.

She pulled out a lollipop, handing it over, "For graduating!" I took it, flushed and shoved it into my purse. I knew Lydia wanted to help and frankly, I wished I could let myself be helped.

When I walked out, I was too distracted by what she'd said about school being over and this being a new beginning to notice someone was sitting in the waiting chairs. Someone who should most definitely not be anywhere near this building, much less in Lydia's waiting room! I swear I walked past him and backtracked, wide-eyed.

"I'm going to throw you out of a window, Matthews." I whispered quietly, not wanting the secretary to eavesdrop. He looked up from his phone, rolling gray eyes. "I told you to leave, didn't I? How the hell are you even… here?"

Finn got up, following me once I started marching in a hurry for the door. Totally avoiding eye contact with Lydia's secretary. Oh, God. She was going to tell Ms. Coleman about a boy waiting for me. If there is a God or whatever, it hates me. She was going to have a field trip with that information next time. Thanks a lot, Matthews.

"How?" I hissed, clicking the elevator button furiously.

"I got out of the car and walked into the building, saw what floor the elevator was on and rode up. Since this floor only has one office occupied, I figured it was where you'd gone. I knocked, walked in and asked the lady if I could wait for you. She said yes." I closed my eyes tightly. "Don't frown, it'll give you wrinkles."

Eyes snapping open, I punched his shoulder.

"Ow," he cried, edging back a step. He grabbed my wrist when I pulled back to hit again. Gritting, I shook him off. "For a ninety-five pound girl, you're strong."

"You're lucky witnesses saw us together, I'm feeling very violent." And uncomfortable. Finn knew I was seeing a shrink. Great. After nine years of keeping it a secret, he'd ruined it. "This is invasion of privacy. You didn't have the right to follow me. I told you to leave."

I took two steps putting us almost chest to chest, my breathing flared as I glared with enough fire for his head to melt. Finn did his trade-mark 'I don't give a shit about you said' thing by shoving his hands into his pockets and smiling down condescendingly.

"And I told you no. You owe me lunch."

Fight the urge to scream. Or to scratch out his eyes. I didn't want to have to schedule a manicure because I got blood under my fingernails.

"Fine!" It came out as yelled hiss. "But what's wrong with waiting in your car? Don't you love it or something?"

"I figured you'd sneak out and run off." I growled. How did he know that? I hated him. "You're in therapy?" the question dropped out of the blue just as the elevator doors opened into the foyer.

I didn't walk out, glaring at him from under my lashes.

"Like I said: invasion of privacy."

"Hey, you slept in my bed and wore my t-shirt. Not to mention last night, when you kept putting your hands all over me." My body became heavy, as a boulder sinking into a lake, as I was forced to remember how I'd been pawing and hugging him. "Do you think that was fun for me?"

The question hung in the air. We were still inside the elevator, the doors closed. I didn't know what to say, I was feeling overwhelmed. Him being here—knowing I had a psychologist. I didn't like it. My heart was beating too fast. And nothing from last night helped. My left hand tightened on my purse strap.

"I… I didn't know what the hell I was doing last night, you idiot. I was drunk!" I said, recovering, and whirled around, stabbing a button to part the doors. I walked out promptly, tossing hair over my shoulder. "And you should be thrilled by my mere presence, little alone the fact that I touched you."

My heart crashed into my rib cage when Finn caught up to me, standing in front of me like a wall. I scowled at his glib grin. I realized the double meaning of my words too late, mortified.

"Not like that you pervert."

"What way?" He asked innocently, eyes glittering with laughter.

"Enough! I'm going home. In a cab." I gritted.

Finn pulled out a hand gesturing at the building we'd exited, "I've been waiting for over an hour for you."

"I didn't ask you to!" I yelled throwing open my arms, close to stomping my foot. Finn's amusement grew. Or maybe I'd just kick him. "I don't know what's gotten into you, Matthews, but I don't like you. In any possible way. God, this all started because of that stupid dance…" I muttered, chancing a glance at his eyes, hoping they'd be mercury. His eyes didn't translate anger, though. Come on, what did it take for this guy to take a hike?

"If you're mad because I know you're seeing a shrink, keep cool. I won't tell anyone about it."

An incredulous laugh left me.

"And why wouldn't you? You don't like me, either, right?"

Finn's shoulder hefted in a shrug, "It's your life. We all have secrets." I blinked. Like the medals, photos and jacket he had stashed in his wardrobe from his old school's swimming team. I'd snooped into his life, too. He didn't know. I bet he'd be pissed. It was a sure way to get him to leave me alone, my instincts told me so. "The sooner we eat, the sooner I'll drop you home and you'll get rid of me."

Argh. I bit my tongue in order to stay quiet. A buzzing sound came from my purse. I ripped my eyes from his face, rummaging through my bag, grabbing my iPhone. It was a text. From Jackson. Good grief.

Almost time to leave for airport. Where r u? Want a kiss goodbye

I tipped the phone closer, praying Finn couldn't read upside down and deleted the text. Not answering. Jackson would be leaving soon? Suddenly, eating lunch with Finn sounded like a wonderful idea. I tossed my cell back in. I pointed a slim finger at his face, Finn looked unfazed.

"Okay. Fine. But I'm picking the place, let's go." I sulked, whirling on the sidewalk, walking for where he'd parked his Chevrolet. Jax's text was making my blood boil.

What would he do if he knew I was actually hanging out with Finn? Or any other guy, for that matter. My stomach twisted. I rather not think about Jackson's misplaced jealousy. I didn't want him. And he only did because of my body, the one he'd praised many, many times.