[a/n: i apologize for the delayed updates, and while this doesn't mean that i'll get back to updating regularly yet, i hope you find this chapter worth the wait. just a little warning, this chapter ends in a cliffhanger, and i'm not sure when i'll be able to write the next one, so bear with me for a while. thank you and i love you all.

sam xo]

Chapter 27

"It's not me," I huffed out, "it's Georgina."

"For the last time," Austin argued, "Georgina is innocent, so stop hurting her feelings and just go back to driving."

Taking a deep breath, I turned back to the road and squared my shoulders, mentally running over the mistakes I'd managed to do so far. Austin had been correcting me over and over, and while I was more or less getting the hang of it, progress was pretty slow.

But progress was progress, so I decided to stick with it, and even though it had already taken approximately seven little arguments between us, I was eventually getting better. By the time the clock ticked four, Austin decided I was ready to get off the spacious parking lot I'd been practicing on and begin driving on the main road.

There weren't a lot of cars, but this offered little comfort. The only drivers out this late are either drunk or sleepy, and that seemed just as dangerous.

"You worry too much," he said.

"Oh, I'm sorry if I'd rather not get us, you know, killed."

Waving a hand dismissively, he merely dismissed me with a flippant "You won't."

"And how, exactly, would you know that?"

"If we were going to die tonight," he said, "then Madame Aurelie would have already told you."

I narrowed my eyes at him, my lips automatically sinking to a disgusted frown. "That woman is batshit crazy."

"Why do you hate her so much?"

"Didn't you see her?" I gave him a quick sideways glance. He had on a small, amused smile, making it clear that he was only teasing me, but even so, I couldn't stop myself from saying, "I mean, the eyeliner alone definitely warrants a Batshit Crazy label."

"You really don't expect me to believe that you hate someone for their makeup choices, do you?"

"You wouldn't know," I said, "but you can tell a lot about people from their makeup choices."

I proceeded to tell him pretty much everything I gathered from years of observing (or, more accurately, judging) the people I'd met because of Tori-from the blue-eyeshadow-pink-lipstick blonde Barbie dolls to the all-black-topped-with-a-piercing rocker chicks.

"Wait, that doesn't make sense," he said. "Why is the girl with too much makeup the obvious non-girly one?"

"Because every girl knows that less is more," I replied. "And only girls who aren't used to the whole makeup thing would make the mistake of putting too much on."

"Oh."

I made a right turn and was happy to find that the car hadn't stalled. The driving was beginning to feel more natural, and though my throat still constricted in panic whenever a truck was coming our way, I was more or less doing great.

Silence filled the car, but I could feel Austin's intent stare on me. I gave him a look, fighting the urge to self-consciously touch my hair. "What?"

"Nothing," he replied, immediately looking away.

"What is it?"

"I was just wondering," he said, "which type you fall into."

I raised an eyebrow. "And what's the verdict?"

He let out a long sigh, intriguing me even further, but then all he said was, "I can't tell if you're wearing makeup or not."

Laughter bubbled past my lips, unable to resist it when I heard the dejected tone in his voice. "It's difficult for the untrained eye."

"Are you or are you not?"

I slid my eyes to his, reveling at the way his eyebrows were furrowed. "Just lip gloss and mascara," I admitted, though I was sure my lip gloss was most likely gone by now. "Think you can analyze me from that?"

He took a deep breath. "Well." He paused, clicking his tongue as he contemplated on this.

I waited, pretending not to be interested in his thoughts as I rounded on a corner.

After what felt like forever, he said, "I got nothing."

"Really? Nothing?"

"Other than the fact that I realized that means you're naturally pretty? Not really."

"What?" My eyes snapped to his. I wasn't sure if I heard him right, or even if I did, I didn't know whether he meant it or not, but before I could figure it out, he was already yelling, "Watch out!"

Headlights flashed through the windshield, accompanied by a loud honk that had me freezing up in panic. It felt as if the world had slowed down; like a split-second lasted forever. I thought This is it, but then the car jerked to a sharp left, and the rest of my body finally got the memo and spurred into action.

I stepped on the brakes, breathing hard, and only when the car came to an abrupt halt that I found myself releasing a breath I didn't know I was holding.

The truck rumbled past like we hadn't almost run into it. I could hear every frantic beat of my heart in the silence that followed. Austin and I were both breathing hard, with him still holding onto the steering wheel.

Our eyes met.

Before I could even take another breath, Austin was already moving, unbuckling his seatbelt and turning to me. He reached for me, cupping my face in both hands, turning my head in every which way. "Are you hurt?"

I opened my mouth to speak but was surprised when a strangled sound escaped my lips instead. He pulled me into a hug and I all but crumpled into him, trying to find a semblance of safety in his warmth.

"It's all right now," he murmured into my hair. "It's all right."

I couldn't say anything. As my heartbeat slowed down, the dull throbbing on my left temple became more and more noticeable. I must have hit my head on the window, but all things considered, I could hardly be bothered to care.

"I'm sorry," I finally whispered. "I didn't-I couldn't-I was-"

"Sshhh." He pulled away, only just slightly. He brushed some stray strands of hair away my face. His fingers grazed the tender spot on my temple, and when I flinched, he immediately lifted it away, replacing it on my chin instead as he turned my head sideways. He let out a hiss. "We need to put some ice on this."

"I'm fine," I said, cursing m voice for coming out weak.

"Are you hurt anywhere else?"

I shook my head, though I wasn't entirely sure I wasn't. "I'm sorry," I said again. The guilt was catching up on me and it was beginning to drown out any sensible thought I might still have in my frazzled state.

His eyes locked with mine. I focused on them, letting their depth pull my thoughts into sharp focus. "It wasn't your fault."

"I should have kept my eyes on the road."

"Well, I should have chosen a better time to flirt with you."

I stared at him. "What?"

Ignoring me, he said, "Are you hurt anywhere else?"

"I'm sorry," I countered, "Did you just say you were flirting with me?"

He pulled away like I had just burned him. Refusing to meet my gaze, he said, "We really need to get some ice on that bump. Let me see if I can get you some."

Before I could say anything, he was already getting out of the car, heading towards Jim's Burgers, its lights way too bright in the midst of the otherwise dark street.

My heart was still beating unsteadily against my ribcage. Whether it was because of our unexpected near-death experience or something else entirely, however, I didn't know.

* * *

"I didn't think this might still come in handy," I told Austin, watching him wrap the ice he'd gotten from Jim's around the shirt I'd spilled coke on earlier this evening. It was the only cloth we could find in the car, so we figured we might as well just use it.

"Seems pretty ironic, doesn't it?" His lifted his eyes to mine briefly, shooting me an apologetic smile he never would have given me when we first bumped into each other. "C'mere."

We were sitting on the sidewalk a few steps from where Georgina had been haphazardly parked. At first, I recoiled when he started to ice the bump I'd gotten, but then I relaxed into it, taking comfort in the gentleness of his hands.

His face was merely inches apart from mine but he was so focused on treating my bump that he didn't seem to notice me staring at him.

"One time," he began, his voice quiet in the empty street, "I got hit with a golf ball on the forehead. I sported a massive bump on my first day in high school."

"You got hit with a golf ball?"

"Long story short"-his eyes flitted to mine-"My then four-year-old cousin thought it would be a good idea to play catch with Uncle Desmond's golf ball. The kid's got a good arm."

"You got hit with a golf ball by a four-year-old."

"I'll have you know that four-year-olds are terrifying creatures."

"More terrifying than eight-year-old boys with twenty bucks asking for a girl's hand in marriage?"

"Hey, those eight-year-old boys are adorable," he said in mock offense. "That girl's mother adored me. In fact, all mothers love me."

"I don't know," I said. "My mom's a little paranoid, so she'd probably have to run a background check on you before affirming that statement."

His lips tugged into a slow smile, and through his glasses, his eyes glinted with barely concealed amusement. "Does this mean you want me to meet your mom?"

"No," I said almost too quickly.

"I don't know, Red." He moved closer, tilting his head ever so slightly to the side. "Don't you think we might be moving a little too fast?"

"Shut up." I inched back, overwhelmed by his proximity. I didn't think I could handle looking him in the eye any longer so I looked away.

He laughed. "I'm kidding," he said. "Besides, it's obviously a lie."

"What?"

"That all mothers love me." There was a shift in his tone, and though a smile remained on his face, there was a soft, bitter quality to it. "I mean, come on." He slid his eyes to mine. "My own mom didn't want me, right?"

I blinked.

He dropped his gaze, picking up a fallen leaf from the ground. I watched as his hands began to tear it apart, bit by bit, as the seconds ticked by in silence. There was no way I could convince him that he was wrong. Not when even I wasn't sure about it.

So instead, I said, "Do you ever think of looking for her?"

He didn't say anything for a long time, busying himself with the dried leaf in his hands, but just when I was about to retract my question, he said, "All the time."

I fumbled for a moment, not quite expecting him to give me such an honest answer. His face was drawn, but his eyes weren't completely shut off, and at that moment, it felt as though I was seeing him bare his wounds for me to see.

"I found a picture once," he began, his voice but a mere murmur. "I was looking for my dad's old baseball glove in the attic. There were a bunch of boxes up there, and I found his old wallet. There was a woman's picture there."

"Was it her?"

He gave me the littlest of smiles-one that didn't quite reach his eyes-and the sight of it tugged at something in my chest. "I never asked."

I blinked, surprised, but I didn't say anything.

"It was kind of like I didn't want to know what she looked like," he continued. "Because then I would always be looking out for her, trying to spot her everywhere I go. The supermarket, the museum, the crowd."

"And do you?" I drew my knees to my chest, hugging them close and resting the side of my head on them so that I could look at his profile. "Look for that woman in the picture anyway, I mean, even though it might not even be her at all."

He let out a short, humorless laugh. "Always." He shook his head. "And it's so fucking unfair because I hate that I want to find her. I hate that I want to see her and I hate that I can't stop myself from subconsciously searching for that woman in the picture wherever I go when goddammit I shouldn't even want to remember her at all after what she'd done to me and my dad."

His voice was raw with emotion-too raw, even, so much so that I didn't know what else to do but reach for his hand.

I didn't say anything. I couldn't, even if I tried, so I just held onto him, letting him know that I understood him; that I, too, was dealing with the same feeling.

I get it, I wanted to tell him, wrapping my fingers around his, I get you.

He didn't look at me-didn't even turn the slightest bit in my direction-but I felt his fingers tighten around mine too.

* * *

We both decided it was better to let him drive us back to the park, and as soon as the ice we were using for my bump melted, we left.

Neither of us said much on our way back, but the silence didn't feel strained or charged. It was just the kind of silence that didn't need words.

We'd survived the night somehow, and much to my surprise, we'd ended up finding some sense of commonality between us; a thin string that connected us in the littlest of ways. We'd come to understand each other, and for someone like me, that was saying a lot.

When we got back to the park, the sky was already beginning to brighten. He got out of the car first, letting the door shut behind him. I sat there for a moment, running a hand across the dashboard as if to say goodbye to Georgina. It was stupid, I knew, but it didn't feel right for me to just get up and leave.

When I got out, Austin looked over at me. "Can you believe it?"

I couldn't help but mirror the easy smile on his face. "What?"

"Well," he said, taking a deep breath before turning to the sky. "We got through the night without biting each other's ear off."

"Would you look at that," I replied, even though that was obviously an understatement, considering how much we'd gotten to know each other over the night.

I'd told him my secrets and he'd told me his; he'd seen me cry and I'd let him comfort me and as much as I didn't want to admit it, I probably wouldn't have handled this night so well if it weren't for him.

"It's gotten pretty light out pretty quickly," he said.

And, without thinking, I found myself saying, "We might as well watch the sunrise."

I wanted to take the words back as soon as they slipped out, but I relaxed when his lips tugged into a slight grin. "I don't see why not."

We leaned back against Georgina, facing east as we waited for the sun to peek out. I crossed my arms over my chest, rubbing at my arms just as Austin began to rub his palms together, lifting them to his lips so he could blow on them.

"I didn't think it gets this cold around here."

"Right," I said. "I'd forgotten you're only staying here for the summer."

"Yeah."

"Why'd you decide to spend your summer here anyway?"

"After the accident," he said, "Mia went to live with a relative up in San Francisco and spent her senior year there. When I heard she was going to spend the summer back at home, I just..." He trailed off, shaking his head before dropping his gaze to his hands. "Anyway, I heard that Lewis's dad needed some help setting up his new business here, so I volunteered, and... here I am."

"So that's it?" I asked him, more curious than anything. "You're just going to avoid her forever?"

"Forever might be too ambitious," he replied, "but that's the plan."

"Is it really okay to just leave it like that?"

He shrugged, placing his hands in his pockets before giving me a sideways glance. "Isn't it the least I can do? After what I'd done to her and Parker, shouldn't I just disappear and finally leave her alone?"

Quietly, I said, "I don't know, but... I'm sure this is eating her up just as much it's eating you up because like you, she probably blames herself for what happened."

I looked up at him.

"I think," I muttered, "that you should at least give yourselves the chance to forgive each other. You owe yourselves at least that much."

"And I," he said, "think it's the same with you and Tori."

I knew that arguing would only make me a hypocrite, so I just bit my tongue and looked out at the horizon. He was right, anyway, and denying that wouldn't do either of us any good.

Neither of us said anything for a long while. We just stood there, side by side, our arms brushing slightly against each other. There were a lot of things I wanted to ask him. What was Parker like? How close had he been with Mia?

Was he still in love with her?

The question was dancing on the tip of my tongue, but I kept it to myself, refusing to acknowledge the fact that I even came up with it in the first place.

Instead, I said, "Hey."

"Yeah?"

"Thank you."

He turned to me, just slightly, but didn't say anything.

"I'm glad you followed me when I stormed off." I didn't want to admit this, but I felt like I needed to get it out there.

If he hadn't followed me, I would probably still be in tears right now. I would still be feeling the heaviness of the loneliness that settled over me as soon as I realized that Tori might not have valued me as much as I have valued her. I would still be wondering how I'd ever be able to recover from the shocking realization that the person I trusted the most might not have had faith in me in the first place.

If he hadn't followed me, I wouldn't have been able to get my mind off the Tori situation, and it would still be gnawing at my gut until now.

But he allowed me to get it out of my system, at least until I could get my bearings back, and now it didn't seem as daunting as it should actually be, and for that, I had to thank him.

"It's fine," he said. "I mean, I know we should technically hate each other, but, you know." He shrugged, one corner of his lips lifting in a lopsided smile. "You're not that bad, even though you still refuse to admit that I have a sexy butt."

"Oh my god, are we still on that?"

He let out a laugh, nudging me slightly with his shoulder. "I'm kidding."

"I highly doubt that."

"Well," he said, "maybe I wasn't entirely kidding, but, come on. Admit it, Red."

"Even this gigantic bump on my head isn't enough to mess me up that much, Dick."

The smile on his face softened. He turned to me, just slightly, and surprised me by reaching out to tuck stray strands of hair behind my ear, his fingertips grazing the bump ever so slightly. "Does it still hurt?"

I swallowed. "I'll survive."

"Are you sure you're not hurt anywhere else?"

"I'm fine."

He kept his eyes steady on mine, so much so that I couldn't help but look away.

But then my gaze dropped to the angry red marks at the side of his neck, and the next thing I knew, my hand was already moving on its own, reaching out to touch his skin. "You didn't tell me you got hurt too."

"Must have gotten them from the seatbelt," he murmured.

"Are you okay?" I asked him, the guilt beginning to creep back in. I lifted my eyes to his, but when our gazes locked, my breathing hitched to a stop.

He didn't say anything; just stared back at me with a slightly surprised expression that must have mirrored the one I had. It felt as though time had stopped moving, suspending us both in the moment. I couldn't move, much less breathe, because it felt as though the slightest movement would throw us back into reality.

And for some reason, I wasn't sure if I wanted that.

I could hear my blood pounding against my ears. I could see every fleck of color in his brown eyes. I could feel every rational thought slipping down, down the drain.

I could feel something tugging at me, pulling me closer, closer, closer-

Then his lips were on mine.

My eyes fluttered close, and the next thing I knew, I was kissing him back.

His lips were slightly chapped and I knew mine were too, but I didn't care-I couldn't care-and all I could do was let everything but this moment fall away.

He kissed me with the urgency of someone who had been let loose after being held captive for so long and I kissed him back with the same hunger, letting my lips move in time with his, catching up so I wouldn't fall behind as I buried my hands in his hair, pulling him even closer to me like I was afraid he'd slip away once I let go.

I felt as though I was drowning and he was oxygen, breathing life into my water-filled lungs with every kiss and every touch and every breath and every second my heart beat in time with his and only this--only he--could get me out of the water.

We kissed like it was the only thing keeping the world together-like it would break apart the moment we fell apart.

We kissed like two people in love.

And that's when I knew I had to push him away.