I catch a glimpse of Flint pulling up on the video monitor we have sitting on the kitchen counter tucked under a row of cabinets. Try to be nice, I tell myself, as if I need the pep talk. His car rumbles up the driveway and I press the button beside the garage door to open it for him. His loud car pulls in next to mine as I step out to greet him.

We're both quiet as I lead him out of the garage and into the house. I'd offer to take his jacket, but he seems to have discarded it in his car. I don't know how he's rocking the short sleeves right now. I'm so cold I wish I had ten sweaters on.

His eyes dart in every direction as he takes in the wide open space that is my house. He's so busy looking that he almost bumps into me. I take him through the house, not really sure where the best spot to sit would be. We reach the living room and Flint stops and stares at the high cathedral ceilings.

"Wow. This is something, Marnie."

I shrug. "It's literally been in my family forever. It was my grandfather's house and dad kind of just inherited it."

His eyes meet mine. "This room alone is literally the size of my house." The edge in his voice from earlier is gone, and he's back to showing me a glimpse of his playful side.

I don't mean to laugh, but I do. He smirks then looks away at everything other than me.

"I'm sorry about earlier, Marnie." He puts his hands in his jean pocket and stares down at the coffee colored rug below his feet. " I swear I wasn't trying to be an asshole." The sincerity in his voice makes it hard to stay mad, but I can't show him that.

"It's no big deal. Should I give you a tour or something?"

"Yeah. I guess."

I give him a quick tour of the first floor, although I'm not sure how this is going to help him write his portion of his paper, but I don't know what else to do. An idea strikes me and I lead him up upstairs. There's only silence coming from the music room. I slowly open the door. His jaw drops.

"Is that..." He points to dad's favorite cherry stained guitar perched in its usual spot on the left side of the room against the gray wall.

"A Les Paul. Yes," I say, finishing his sentence for him.

"May I?"

The idea of seeing him play again makes my heart leap in a way I can't quite explain.

"I guess, dad hasn't really touched her in a very long time."

I push the door open the rest of the way. After seeing dad in here I've been itching to come back in. Stepping into this room is like taking a trip through time. Everything is exactly where it was the last time I'd been in here, maybe five or more years ago right before I started high school.

He runs his hand over the neck of the guitar and studies the strings and the way they feel. His muscles flex under his black t-shirt as he picks it up and places the strap around his neck. Pulling a pick from his pocket, (of course Flint Rogers would carry a guitar pick in his pocket) he begins to pluck each string. I can't keep my attention off him, as he closes his eyes while he listens to each string making sure they're in tune. With every prick he bounces his head as if the music is calling to him.

Even without windows, this room always had a special light about it, but today it feels brighter. Dad didn't do an amazing job at soundproofing but it did its job for the most part. He used to record himself playing, and sometimes record us too. I hadn't realized how much I missed the idea of playing with them until now.

In the back of the room sits the drums dad was playing. To my left is a keyboard, and on the right beside the guitar Flint is still tuning, there are a few extra ones and a bass.

"I see you found my collection." Dad's low thunderous voice startles us. He stands in the doorway still dressed for work. He's normally not home this early so seeing him walking into the room peeling off his suit jacket is startling.

"Jeez dad you scared me, what are you doing home?" I hold a hand on my chest as he enters the room.

He smiles at Flint like it's no big deal that he's holding his baby. Flint starts to put it down.

"I'm sorry I didn't mean to..."

"Play away. And Marnie to answer your question I got off early and it's meatloaf night. I don't think I've ever missed one of those. It's best when it comes straight out of the oven."

He sets his jacket over a tan metal chair near the door. I can't take my eyes off of him, the dad who took me to the concert emerges, and I can't help the lump that forms in my throat. He rolls up his sleeves then focuses on Flint. The bromance that started forming at the concert is intensifying.

"Flint, right?

He remembered.

"Yes sir," Flint says, turning into the polite guy that I met at the concert.

"Just call me Jonathan, okay son? And after your performance the other night you are more than welcome to stay for dinner, and a jam session."

Flint stutters almost like he's the one who's starstruck now. He turns to me, waiting for permission. I guess it makes sense since I ate dinner at his house. It's only for the project I tell myself.

"Sure, I mean if it's okay with you, Marnie?"

Now they are both watching me waiting for my response, I'm not sure why it's up to me, but if it helps us with our project then I'm all for it. I hope they don't think this will happen more than once. I'm surprised they haven't started doing the puppy dog look, although they are on the verge of it, I answer before they can. "Sure, but I get to play too."

I take a seat behind the drums, I glance up to find Flint watching me with curious eyes, and an eyebrow raised. Ignoring him I start warming up. Drums were never easy for me, but I enjoy being in control.

"Do you want your guitar?" Flint asks, turning to dad.

Dad shakes his head. "Not at all son, she's all yours for today. Go easy on her though, I don't even let Marnie play her."

I stick out my tongue as I continue to warm up. My arms will be sore tomorrow, but getting to play with dad again will make it worth the pain. My warm up consists of a little old school punk rock. Flint is still fiddling with tuning dad's guitar when he stares up in my direction at my song choice. I've taken a dive into the CBGB days of punk. It doesn't sound amazing, but I can definitely hold my own on the drums.

Once he's satisfied with the way the guitar sounds he joins in with me. Dad grabs the bass and starts to do his own tuning. Old school punk fades into early 2000s pop/rock. A familiar song echoes through the room and dad and Flint don't hold back singing. I close my eyes and try to focus on their voices. I've missed dad's singing. Aside from punk rock, dad used to sing me lullabies. His low baritone voice brings me back to those days and I fight the growing lump in my throat that keeps rearing its ugly head.

I'm trying to ignore the hair on my neck standing up. Even with my eyes closed it's easy to feel Flint's eyes on mine. A few more instruments join in and when I open my eyes Derek and Dom have joined in. Derek is on one of the other guitars and Dom is taking over the keyboard. I try to hold back a sob and it causes me to miss a beat or two on the Blink 182 song we're playing.

I bring the pace down a bit and dig into some Something Corporate. Flint lifts his gaze and his face lights up at the sound of "I Woke Up In A Car". Dad and Flint's harmonies are on point and I can't help getting wrapped up in the moment. Flint's voice is an octave or two higher than dad's, but they harmonize well together.

In the corner of my eye I catch Lucille standing in the doorway leaning against the door frame. She's focused all her attention on dad as she bobs along with the music. It takes him a few minutes to notice. His smile widens and stretches across his whole face. I've never seen him light up in that way before. The music comes to an end and his sights are still solely on her.

"Meatloaf?" he asks.

Leave it to dad to stop playing music for food. It brings a smile to my face to see him acting this way. Lucille nods, but stares at him like he's the only one in the room. Why am I the only one noticing? Dom and Derek are too busy complimenting Flint and introducing themselves to be aware of the moment between them.

"Alright troops let's move out, it's meatloaf time." Dad puts his guitar back on the stand and walks out to follow Lucille.

Dom and Derek file out behind them, leaving Flint and I alone. He carefully places the guitar back on its stand then turns to me. I make my way around the drums. I'm taken aback by the soft smile on his face. This version of him makes me feel things I shouldn't. I keep my distance stopping a few inches away.

"What?" I'm finding it hard to suppress my growing smile around him.

"So, you play drums, guitar...."

"Keyboard," I say, while grinning.

"Keyboard." He repeats. "And you can sing too."

I toss my hair behind my shoulders in a teasing way. "I'm not gonna brag about it or anything, but yeah I can carry a tune."

He chuckles and his eyes soften. "There really is more to you, huh?"

I'm fully aware of the step he takes towards me closing the gap between us.

"I could say the same about you. I'm sorry I gave you a hard time earlier." I search his eyes for any hint of the jerk I know from school, but it's not there. "I feel like I need to..."

"Protect your reputation," he says, finishing my sentence.

Guilty, I nod. "Yeah."

"You realize that high school means nothing in the real world, right? You could be the biggest geek and then be the guy everyone wants to sleep with in college. You shouldn't let high school define who you are as a person. Why do you care so much?"

No one has ever asked me that question before. Digging deep inside I imagine most of my insecurities stem from my mother's departure. I hated not being good enough for her, it made me want to be the best at everything and be noticed. I'd never admit it outloud to Flint or anyone.

"It's okay to not be popular or be like your friends. You're better than that, Marnie. I saw it in your eyes when you were baking with my brother. If you learn to let go a bit, who knows maybe you'll even smile more." He brushes his hand against mine and I can't help the gasp that leaves my lips.

"I smile," I whisper.

He raises a brow and shakes his head. "You never smile, Marnie. I mean your lips do, but not you. You don't even smile when you're with Camden.."

"Cameron." I try to correct him, but his name on my lips comes out shaky.

His fingers continue to dance along my skin in soft circles. I fight the urge to close my eyes and enjoy it.

"I've known you since we were in Pre-k and from what I've learned over the past few weeks is that you're not the bad person everyone sees. There's more to you than that. I've seen your good side. Maybe you should let it out more."

I'm speechless. I had no idea that he saw the girl I am beneath the surface. Somewhere along the way I lost myself and instead of being likeable and popular, I became the unlikeable girl. The urge to cry overwhelms me, but I can't cry, not in front of him.

"We should eat," I manage to say, my voice breaking as I do.

***

We all sit down at the kitchen table with everyone. By the time we sit, Dad, Dom, and Derek have already attacked the meatloaf. Lucille is sitting at the table with us tonight, which I'm not used to. She always cooks food and while we eat she does the dishes or gets the laundry started, then she'll come back later and eat. Tonight she's sitting to the left of dad who's in his usual spot at the head of the table.

"Her secret ingredient is a hard boiled egg," Derek whispers to Flint as he sits down next to him.

I take the seat next to Flint against the wall facing the window looking out over the mainland.

Flint laughs. "I've never had eggs in my meatloaf."

"It's literally to die for." Derek takes a huge forkful, half of it falling out of his mouth.

I remain quiet going over the things Flint said. My body is still trying to comprehend the overwhelming emotions that tore through it while his fingers touched mine. I fill my plate, and then Flint's. He checks out the heaping pile of meatloaf and potatoes on my plate.

"What? I like meatloaf," I say, unable to keep myself from smirking.

"Just impressed with the amount of meat on your plate," he jokes.

"When she's not on one of her diets." Dom swallows the food in his mouth. "My sister knows how to eat."

I scowl at him and toss a small piece of my dinner at him.

"Hey," he chuckles as it lands on his lap.

This is a rare moment in Bennett history. We haven't all sat down for dinner like this in so long. Showing Flint this rare moment makes me feel like a fraud. He's supposed to see what life here is really like, and we're all putting on a show for him. Between the jam session and now a family dinner I can hardly wrap my head around it all.

"So Flint, how'd you meet my sister?" Dom asks, wiggling his brows.

I'm tempted to fling some mashed potatoes his way next, but that would be a waste, as Lucille's mashed potatoes are even more delicious than her meatloaf.

"Shut up, Dom. We are working on a school project, not dating. No need to interrogate him." I roll my eyes.

Flint chuckles next to me and I shoot him a glare. Dad shovels food into his mouth, but carefully watches our interaction.

"Your sister and I don't run in the same crowd." His tone is playful, but there's some snark under it. "Technically I've known her since Pre-k, but we got more acquainted in Kindergarten when she dumped a carton of milk over my head for looking at her the wrong way."

I smack my free hand to my head. I can't believe he remembered that. My face is burning under the palm of my hand.

"That was you?" Through my fingers I catch my dad smirking.

Everyone's attention falls on me. I slouch down, keeping my fingers in front of my face. Laughing, Flint gently tugs on my arm to pull them away. His fingers back on my skin make me shiver. I stare up at him through my lashes. I had a little baby crush on him when we were younger and he always kind of ignored me, so one day he turned to ask me a question, and I dumped milk on his lap because I saw it on TV.

"You were feisty even then," he teases in a playful tone.

My family are all watching the scene unfold before them, which probably looks like we're flirting. Are we?

"Feisty, I'll show you feisty." I toss a piece of meatloaf at him. He attempts to catch it, but he's shaking so hard from laughter that it falls into his lap. "Ugh, why did you have to remember that?" I want to hide in a hole at the mention of what a five- year old me did to him.

"So Flint, how did you know Joey?" Dad asks, changing the subject.

"My buddy is good friends with him. He met him at one of the venues around here, and came to a few of our practices to give us some pointers. He's cool. He said you worked with him." Flint takes a bite of food while he waits for dad to respond. I'm relieved that they've moved on to something else.

"Yes, right after college, before Marnie was born. Those were the days." Dad puts his fork down and clasps his hands behind his head. Leaning back he grins, remembering all the fun times that he failed to mention to me. "Speaking of..." I know where this is going. Ugh dad stop. "Where are you planning on going to college?"

Flint doesn't seem bothered by dad's question. "If I can afford it, maybe a local community school. I want to be a tattoo artist. I work at Lou's in town."

"Wait what?" I drop my fork. "You work at Lou's?"

Flint finishes chewing then glances over at me as if to say, if you would have listened to me at school today you would have figured it out earlier.

"Marnie has been begging me for a tattoo since she was like nine." Dad wipes his face with a napkin, revealing a smile underneath when he places it back onto the table.

Flint laughs, and my cheeks get even hotter. "I didn't know you worked there. What made you want to be a tattoo artist?" I ask, genuinely interested in his story.

His eyes widen, I'm sure he's confused as to why I'm actually asking him a real question about his life, instead of being judgy.

"I love art just as much as I love music. I've been drawing since I could pick up a pencil and write. Right now I clean up and work the register. I turned eighteen in December, so I'm doing some apprentice work. Hank the owner is letting me study under him and as soon as I'm able to I'm going to get my license. He really took a liking to some of my drawings. If the music thing doesn't work out I always have this to fall back on."

"That's great, Flint, I'd like to check out your work one day."

Dad is content with his answer. I am too. I'm impressed that he has an idea of what he wants for his future. For someone who I thought didn't have any clue about his plans, he's much more prepared for his plans after graduation than I am.

"What?" he asks.

I shake my head. "Nothing."

He's trying to get a read on me, trying to figure out what I'm thinking.

"Ugh, now I want a tattoo even more just talking about it," I squeal.

"Your birthday is coming, Marnie. Remember what I said, eighteen." Dad reminds me. My birthday is literally almost here and the thought of getting a tattoo makes me want to jump up and down.

Flint puts down his fork, wipes his face, then turns to me. "I could set you up with an appointment, Hank would be able to maybe slip a family and friends discount. You too, Mr. I mean Johnathan. You're all welcome to come down anytime."

My brothers are just as smitten as dad is over Flint. I've caught Dom a few times sizing him up, measuring to see if he's a good fit for me. We may not get along, but anytime there's been trouble my brothers have been more than willing to stand by my side. They despise Cam, and Dom has made his hatred for him known, so the prospect of me finding someone like Flint has them all head over heels for him.

He scoops up the last bit on his plate, then glances up at Lucille. "Lucille, this is amazing by the way, thank you for letting me stay."

"Sure," she says with a smile. She stands and starts to take everyone's plate. When she takes dad's plate she pauses. Her hand connects with his under the plate. I check to see if anyone else notices, but they seem to be too consumed with Flint and tattoos.

"Is that really what you want for your birthday?" Dad asks, as Lucille walks off with our plates.

I nod. It's all I've wanted for so long and I really hope that Flint's little rant helped convince him.

"That and my nose pierced..."

"Just get everything all done at once, huh?" dad jokes. "It's okay with me, Marnie, if that's what you want."

My eyes light up and I can't control my smile. "Really, I can? Thank you so much."

Now I have more reason to look forward to my birthday, which is actually next week. I have been dreaming of my eighteenth birthday for a very long time. Eighteen is going to be amazing.

***

After dinner Flint and I try to find a place to talk about our project. I decide on the movie room, not because it's secluded from my family, but because I know he'll like it. I open the door. His jaw drops as he scans the room and I'm tempted to go over and close it for him. He laughs in disbelief over what he's seeing.

"Marnie, seriously? A music room, a movie room, do you have a gym in here too?" he asks.

"Basement. It's more of a gym slash um... man cave," I say.

"I thought the music room was a man cave?"

I laugh, technically dad has three man caves; his office, the music room, and the basement.

"So um... do we get popcorn and soda?" He runs a hand over the soft red cushioned movie theater seats.

"I can arrange that if you are up for a movie." I don't know what's come over me. Asking Flint to stay longer is not how I imagined tonight going. I expected it to all be over already, but something inside is aching for more time with him. There hasn't been a moment tonight that I hated. I've almost forgotten that my life at school is in shambles.

"You can't bring me in this room and not expect me to want to check something out on the big screen." I follow his eyes to the huge movie theater screen on the wall. Red curtains cascade down the sides just like in an actual theater.

While he oogles over the room I call Lucille on the intercom to bring us up some treats. He's impressed by the fact that there's an intercom in here too. A strange sensation flutters over me. Am I being too showy? I've been to his house and I hope he doesn't think I'm trying to make him feel bad about his living situation.

"Marnie?" He pulls me from my thoughts with a low growl in his voice.

I blink several times to clear my head, then turn to where he's found a spot in the center. He's already sitting and pats the spot beside him. I grab the remotes from a small black pouch hanging on the wall near the screen. When I slide in next to him I hand him the remote to find a movie. He picks out something with Jackie Chan. I've never seen it, but I don't mind action and comedy.

As the movie starts Lucille comes in to give us popcorn in cute authentic popcorn bags, and movie theater style drinks. She doesn't linger, but throws a quick glance over her shoulder before exiting the room.

"This is amazing. You are so lucky you have this. I would do anything to be able to have your life."

Guilt consumes me. I saw the way Flint is living and it isn't the most ideal situation. Here I am flaunting all of the things I have that he probably never will. There's a small ache in my chest and part of me wants to send him home so that I can rid myself of this guilt, but the other half likes hanging out with him.

Flint nudges me with his elbow, and I smile. It's only Tuesday, but so far this week has been very strange. Last week I was angry with Mr. Shepherd for putting Flint and I together as partners, but now I'm not so sure that I mind. Sitting here with him doesn't feel like work, it's like we're old friends hanging out and enjoying each other's company. I hate admitting that, because I know when this is all over, I will go back to ignoring him. He'll have his group of friends and I'll have mine. For some reason the thought saddens me a little.

Flint grows quiet after the opening credits finish rolling. I find it hard to concentrate on the movie when his arm is stretched out on the armrest beside mine. His skin brushes against mine and my pulse skyrockets. It picks up the pace more when his pinky grazes mine and he hooks his around mine. In the corner of my eye I catch him closing his eyes and taking a deep breath as he tightens his grip around my finger.

The movie is over before I want it to be, and when he slides his finger from mine the cold air makes me shiver. He stands to stretch and pretends like we didn't hold hands or fingers, that was weird, but it felt right. I check the time on my phone and I'm surprised by how late it is.

"Will your parents be pissed that you're out this late on a school night?" I ask, mostly referring to his father.

"No, it's fine. My mom is working, and my brothers are probably okay with my dad."

"Oh okay." I stare down at my shoes. I have the urge to ask about his father and if he hurts any of them. They all were so frightened of the man.

"I should go check on them though, just in case. I can see myself out. Thank you for dinner and everything. It was kind of cool jamming with you and your family."

My words catch in my throat and all that comes out is a squeaky version of what I think is goodnight. He starts heading for the door, and I have no idea what possesses me to do it, but I reach out and grab a hold of his arm.

"Flint?"

He gasps as my hand slides down his arm and holds steady at his wrist.

"Yeah?" His eyes meet mine and I almost lose my voice. Confusion clouds his eyes.

"He won't hurt them right?" It spills out so fast I'm not sure if he heard me or not.

"You could tell, huh?"

I nod, afraid that I have poured salt on an opened wound.

"No. He wouldn't hurt them," he says curtly.

I'm not sure how to take it, but deep down I know he's lying.

"Okay, sorry. I just Connor is the sweetest little boy, and I ..."

"He likes you too." He cuts me off. "He asked me when you were coming back..."

"I wouldn't mind," I say.

He tilts his head, and the right side of his jaw twitches. His body is practically flush against mine. I was so wound up in the moment I hadn't realized we had gotten so close. I think the tips of our shoes are touching, but I'm afraid to look down.

"You want to hang out with me again?"

His eyes find mine. I can't find my voice. It's hard to say yes. I want to. It's on the tip of my tongue, but the words refuse to surface.

"You don't have to pity me, Marnie." He rolls his eyes. "I like my life. I may not be rich like you, but I am okay."

"I didn't mean to..."

He shakes off my hand, and takes a small step backward. "I'm used to it. You know you don't even have to walk me out. I remember where my car is. At least it's not around the corner."

I'm speechless by his sudden change in attitude. My throat closes up and it feels like I can't swallow. Tears threaten my eyes. I follow him down the stairs to try and catch up to him. A voice inside my head is telling me to apologize, but I'm not sure what I did wrong.

He senses I'm behind him and snaps his head around, the coldness behind his blue eyes tells me all I need to know. I bite my lip and wait for the words to come, but they never do. He faces the other way and finishes his descent down the stairs. When the garage door slams I rush back upstairs to my room. I don't need anyone in the house questioning what happened.

In my room I throw myself onto my bed and attempt to stop the tears. "This assignment is so stupid," I yell into my pillow.