I HAVE A nightmare two days after the dinner party.

The first thing I register about the dream are the trees. They're everywhere, a deep green in color, looming over me as they stretch up to the starless night sky. A fog encompasses the woods, caressing my skin, weaving through branches and winding around tree trunks. My breath comes out in a cloud of smoke in front of me, and everything is quiet. Too quiet. There are no crickets chirping, no leaves rustling, nothing.

Something feels off about the night, but I can't put my finger on what it is. A twig snaps in the distance, and it strikes a cord of fear within me. I know I should run but I don't know why.

Springing into action, I dash in a random direction, my heart racing, limbs shaking as I step over roots and dodge branches. An indistinguishable voice calls out for me, and it sounds wrong, and distorted.

Quick footsteps follow behind me and I try to hasten my pace but I can't go much faster. My foot catches on a root, and I send myself careening to the ground with a yelp. I'm wounded momentarily, before remembering that I'm being pursued.

I drag myself further away from my unknown attacker, turning onto my back so I can see them coming.

They are merely a silhouette veiled in shadows, but in their hand, I see a blade glinting, and it causes me to whimper in fear.

"Please, no," I whisper, feeling a deep sense of dread.

Instead of respecting my wishes, they raise the knife up above me, tension throughout their arm.

"Sleep tight, Allie," they say, voice dripping with malice.

I let out a bloodcurdling scream as the knife plunges toward me.

And then I wake up, panting and in a sweat.

The contrast between reality and the dream is shocking, and in the darkness of my bedroom, it takes me a few seconds to decide which is which. I sit up quickly, my chest rising and falling at a rapid rate, and I flick on the lamp on the bedside table. It lights the room in a warm glow, helping me control my breathing, and I close my eyes, swallowing and running a hand through my hair. My throat closes up and my eyes prick with tears at how real it all felt.

Thinking of the nightmare, my eyebrows crease in a frown. Slowly, I curl my fingers around the hem of my tank top, pulling it up to reveal the bandage.

A stab wound.

The idea that I was in a car accident doesn't feel right to me, but I don't know why everyone would lie about it. A stab wound aligns with the injury a lot more, but is a thousand times more frightening. I let go of the shirt, letting it fall across my skin again, not wanting to look at the wound anymore.

Instead, I tuck my knees to my chest, wrapping my arms around them and preparing to stay awake for the rest of the night.

✘✘✘

A knock on my door startles me hours later, and my eyes fly open, feeling like it's been mere minutes since I last woke. The knock comes again and I sigh, lifting up my head to note that my neck is extremely stiff, along with the rest of my body. Grimacing, I attempt to stretch out.

"Allie, are you up?" I hear, and it sounds like Audrey.

"Yeah," I force out, squeezing my eyes shut before yawning.

"Okay," she replies. "I made breakfast."

My eyebrows raise in mild surprise, and I pause in the middle of a stretch. "Is Sofia home?"

"No, she had to go to work early this morning. It's just the two of us."

Dragging myself out of bed, I cross my bedroom floor and exit the room, heading down the stairs after Audrey. The smell of fresh pancakes and maple syrup greets my nose the closer we get to the kitchen, and my stomach growls in response.

"Wow," I say, my lips pulling up slightly. "It smells amazing."

"I'm glad you think so," she replies, returning the smile.

We take a seat at the island, where she's already made up two plates with stacks of steaming pancakes. I'm eager to ease the hunger gnawing at my stomach, and dig into the meal heartily, closing my eyes in delight at the taste that reaches my senses. It's a warm way to start the day after the night I had.

"Tastes amazing, too," I assure her genuinely.

"Yay," she quips, smiling around a bite. "Sleep well?"

"Yeah," I lie, dropping my eyes, reaching for the glass of orange juice in front of me. After taking a sip, I swallow, contemplating. "Hey, can I ask you a question?" I ask hesitantly.

She raises her eyebrows, nodding encouragingly. "Of course, anything."

I run my finger around the rim of my glass slowly, debating if I should bring up this subject. "That dinner we had the other night," I begin, keeping my voice casual, "with Clark."

She purses her lips, her features getting tighter at the mention of Sofia's boyfriend. "Yes," she says shortly.

"I couldn't help but notice you don't seem to like him," I continue, narrowing my eyes. "Did he do something?"

Audrey snorts, rolling her eyes and flipping her dark ponytail over her shoulder. "He tried to," she mutters, breaking eye contact.

My eyes widen, and I place a hand on her arm. "To you?"

She pauses, looking uncomfortable and sticking her tongue in her cheek. Slowly, she nods.

"Does Sofia know about this?" I demand.

Raising an eyebrow, she laughs without humour. "She does, but she pretends she doesn't. He can do no evil in her eyes. She thinks I misinterpreted his actions," she says, changing the tone of her voice to sound like the woman in question.

"That's ridiculous," I splutter in disbelief.

"You're telling me," she states, taking a sip of her own drink and shaking her head. "I don't know why she likes him. He's a creepy, old white guy. What's to like?"

I say nothing, leaning back in my seat and shaking my own head.

She sighs, pushing her plate away, clearly having lost her appetite. "Mom sure knows how to pick 'em."

I frown, turning to face her again, both confused and intrigued. "Are you talking about our dad?"

She smiles sardonically, leaning back in her seat and folding her arms. "Oh, you mean Andres? The one and only."

"Parker mentioned him briefly," I murmur, feeling like her anger takes up so much space in the room that there isn't a place for my voice. "But I noticed you and Sofia haven't."

She narrows her eyes. "That's because he's dead to us."

I raise my eyebrows in silent shock, seeing how her posture becomes rigid and her jaw clenches. "What happened?" I ask finally.

"He cheated on Mom," she says bitterly. "And then he left when she said he couldn't have both of them."

My stomach drops at the word cheated and I lose my own appetite all at once. All the emotions I felt when Parker kissed me return: the anger, the confusion, the betrayal. It takes a moment for me to realize she's waiting for me to respond, and I hope that the floored look on my face shows how speechless I feel.

"That's terrible," I say genuinely, my voice low.

"I know," she agrees instantly, obviously having been waiting for my mutual disgust. "Cheating is the lowest of lows. I don't understand how anyone can do that."

The longer she speaks, the more my stomach twists. The guilt is nearly unbearable and I can't look her in the eyes.

"The worst thing about it is that the other woman was one of Mom's clients. They were friends," she emphasizes. "It's not like she didn't know he was married with two daughters."

She pauses again, waiting for my input, but I can only grimace, shaking my head. She sighs, and it seems like she realizes that what she's saying is upsetting me. "Enough about that," she murmurs. "You should get ready for school."

After lingering a moment longer, long enough for me to flash her a brief close-lipped smile, she vacates the kitchen, and I wait a few seconds before hurrying to the bathroom.

Once there, I empty the contents of my stomach, turning on the tap to keep Audrey from hearing me get sick.

Even hours into the school day, I can't stop thinking about Andres and Sofia. Most of my thoughts center around the former, about whether he still keeps in touch, and wondering when the last time I saw him was. I also question my own actions. Why would I begin an affair when that was the very thing that destroyed my family and brewed a hatred for my father? Maybe it was a ploy to get his attention. Maybe it felt like revenge. Maybe it was unrelated. No matter how I spin it, it's still a terrible, terrible thing.

I'm exchanging my books at my locker when a pair of hands covers my eyes abruptly. I flinch, gasping.

"Guess who," a low voice murmurs, breath tickling my ear.

Letting out a breath, I relax my shoulders. "Not the best thing to ask an amnesiac," I quip, despite the fact that I know the answer.

Dylan laughs, dropping his hands. "Fair enough," he says, grinning as I turn around to face him. "Hey, good looking."

Tucking my hair behind my ear, I give him a brief smile, feeling uncomfortable. "Hey."

"Let me walk you to class." He sidles up next to me as I head toward the biology classroom, greeting several people who pass by us. Sticking his hands in his pockets, he raises his Letterman-jacket clad shoulders. "So, I was thinking..." he begins, trailing off. "We should go out tonight."

My eyebrows furrow immediately, and I suddenly feel squirmy. "I thought we agreed to take things slow," I say lightly.

"Oh, I know," he says eagerly. "Consider this a 'get-to-know-each-other' date."

I raise an eyebrow, turning to look at him. "But you already know me."

He laughs shortly. "Okay, then consider it a 'get-to-know-Dylan-Sanchez' date."

We stop outside of the classroom, and I chew on the inside of my lip, considering. He looks at me expectantly, hope colouring his expression. I figure I owe the guy at least a date. It can't be an easy thing to have your girlfriend forget you. "Okay," I say finally, defeat in my voice.

"Yeah?" he says, grinning and raising his eyebrows.

I can't help but smile back. "Yeah."

"I'll pick you up at six," he tells me, before sauntering down the hallway.

✘✘✘

True to his word, Dylan arrives at my house a minute after six, and after taking me to dinner at an expensive restaurant, he tells me the next location is a surprise. Pender Falls is alive with oranges, reds, and yellows, and I stare out the window as we drive by, looking at all the houses adorned with Halloween paraphernalia. Dylan taps his fingers on his knee to the radio.

"So, what do you wanna know?" he asks, breaking the silence.

I turn to him, blinking.

"Ask me anything," he says, glancing at me briefly, his mouth lifting in a half smile.

I raise an eyebrow. "Where are we going?"

He scoffs. "Ask me something about me."

My mouth twitches. "Well, you know where we're going."

His smile spreads, but he keeps his eyes on the road. "It's a surprise. Next question."

I'm silent, considering what I should ask him. I pull my sleeves over my fingers, then bring my eyes up to the road again. "How long have we been dating?"

"Two years," he says, and I raise my eyebrows. "I know. A long time, right?"

"How did we meet?"

Dylan grins, chuckling to himself. "We met at a party and, uh, hooked up."

"How romantic," I remark sarcastically, though I'm not all that surprised. I remember seeing the photos of us intoxicated and all over each other. The scene isn't that hard to picture. I can conjure up blurry images of a high school party, and the sixteen year old versions of Dylan and I falling over each other.

"Modern day Romeo and Juliet," he agrees, and I laugh.

"Right." I roll my eyes.

He pulls the car into a parking lot, and I realize I've forgotten to pay attention to where we were going. Light catches my eye in the side mirror, and I look over my shoulder to see a Ferris wheel across the street, placed in the middle of a bustling fair. Music, laughter, and shouts reach my ears and I smile at the sounds.

I look to Dylan to find that he's watching me expectantly, his eyebrows raised, gauging my reaction.

"Pretty good surprise?" he asks.

I nod. "Pretty good surprise," I mimic.

Minutes later, we're in the middle of it all, walking along the carnival booths slowly. Kids with painted faces are running around, followed by frantic parents bringing up the rear, and young teenagers laugh about it to their friends. I have a pink ball of cotton candy in my hand, eating it leisurely, and Dylan is working on a candy apple.

We pass by a dart-throwing game and Dylan stops, looking at it.

He turns to me. "Can I win you a teddy bear?"

I crinkle up my nose, shaking my head. "You can play, but I don't want the bear."

"Aw, come on," he protests, dropping his shoulders. "I thought it would be cute."

Grinning, I shrug. "If I want something, I can win it myself," I tease.

I turn on my heel, slowly sauntering down the aisle. He follows, laughing a little. He walks close enough that our arms are brushing, and I'm a bit surprised by how numb I feel to the gesture. I don't see what the problem is. Dylan is an attractive, sweet guy who's clearly very into me, and we've been together before, so I don't know why being with him doesn't stir up anything inside of me. Not a single butterfly.

"Fair enough," he says, after a pause. "We'll go back to our other game. Any more questions?"

"Hm," I hum, gently pulling apart a piece of cotton candy and placing it in my mouth, feeling it dissolve. "The Letterman jacket." I gesture to it. "Are you a jock or something?"

He smirks, puffing out his chest slightly. "Captain of the football team."

I resist the urge to roll my eyes. "Of course," I say emphatically. "That must mean I'm head cheerleader."

Laughing boisterously, he throws his head back. "Absolutely not."

Something catches my eye then, and I tune out of the rest of his words. I see a familiar figure standing in the middle of the commotion, a pair of striking blue eyes scanning the premises until they land on me, causing me to swallow, my eyebrows furrowing.

Mason Byrne.

He doesn't strike me as the type to come to something like this, especially alone, and his presence feels entirely out of place. There's a heavy weight to his gaze, making my heart beat a little faster.

I don't notice that I've stopped walking until Dylan stops too, looking back at me with a concerned expression. I open my mouth, reluctantly tearing my eyes away, but don't say anything. A bad feeling creeps into my chest, making me lose my words.

"What is it, Allie?" Dylan asks, taking a step closer to me.

My eyes flicker between the two boys, and I wrap my arms around my torso self-consciously. "That's Mason, right?" I ask, gesturing in his direction with my chin. "I wonder what he's doing here."

Dylan's expression changes when he hears the name.

His jaw clenches, and his eyes narrow. He looks over his shoulder, following my gaze, and locks eyes with Mason, who looks away. He turns back to me briefly, face softening slightly. "I actually have something I need to say to him. Stay here, okay?"

I nod, running my hand along my arm. "Okay," I say, even though it doesn't seem like a good idea for some reason.

Dylan storms over to Mason, noticeably out of earshot. Both of them look angry. Dylan speaks the most, his mouth moving quickly, and I can see the tension in his neck. Mason simply glares, folding his arms, and somehow his actions seem a thousand times more powerful. Dylan continues to run his mouth, jabbing a finger into the other boy's chest, and I don't like the looks of it. I fidget with my fingers, debating whether I should go over there or not. The longer Mason remains silent, it seems, the more agitated Dylan gets.

Before I can think about it anymore, my feet are carrying me over to the pair. They don't see me approach until I'm right behind them, and then Mason's eyes flicker to mine, his face clearing, becoming unreadable.

"Just stay away from us," Dylan is in the middle of spitting, his voice full of venom, "or you know what will happen."

"Hey," I say, holding my hands out, and he looks at me, eyes wild with anger. "Calm down, Dylan."

He purses his lips, running a hand through his hair quickly. He considers a few moments, before taking a step back reluctantly.

I turn to Mason. "Sorry," I apologize, though I'm not sure if I should. "But you should probably go."

"I was just leaving," he says smoothly.

I look away from him for a second, and by the time I look back, he's vanished into thin air. Dylan is still upset, though his anger seems to be morphing into concern.

Shaking my head, I stare at him in disbelief. "What was that about?"

"I'm sorry," he says, sounding sincere. "I wasn't trying to ruin our date. I just really don't like that guy."

Sighing, I look in the direction Mason disappeared in, curiosity burning in my chest. But my questions will have to wait. For now, I need to be present. "It's fine," I say, my lips upturning in the corners. "Let's just enjoy the rest of the night."

He nods, returning my smile with a small one of his own. "Cool with me."

✘✘✘

The night has grown dark by the time Dylan drops me off at home. The light outside the house flickers on as we exit the car, making the blackness less threatening. He walks next to me as we make our way to the door, having insisted on walking me home, even though we drove.

After the Mason incident, things went back to normal, with me asking him a plethora of questions, and him flirting with me every chance he could get. But I didn't mind as much as I usually do.

We reach the front door and I place my hand on the doorknob, pausing. I turn back to him, pulling my hand away and smiling.

"I had a lot of fun tonight," I say genuinely.

He returns my smile. "Me too. I'm glad you said yes."

Silence falls over us, and he watches me intently. I know this is probably the point where he would kiss me goodnight, but he mostly likely doesn't think he's allowed to. It's a strange territory to be in, not knowing what the boundaries should be. I hold his gaze, unable to think of anything to say.

Acting on impulse, I stand on my tiptoes, reaching over and pressing my lips against his cheek briefly, feeling like I owe him at least that. When I pull away, I see the look of shock on his face, before that shock turns into a smile, slowly spreading from ear to ear.

"Goodnight, Dylan," I say quietly.

"Night," he murmurs, seeming somewhat dazed.

He turns away after a few moments, heading for his car, and I open the door to the house, entering and closing the door behind me. Leaning against the door with a heavy sigh, I'm left to wonder why his reaction to the kiss makes a seed of guilt form in my stomach.