The boy is glowing. His chest is made of gold. His eyes are sapphires. My heart is thumping. He's not doing anything. Just standing there looking at me. But just him having his eyes on me is enough. His lips are the color of strawberries. I want to kiss him. I've never wanted to kiss anyone more in my whole life. My cheeks are wet. Why are my cheeks wet? Am I crying? Wait. My eyes are closed. I'm dreaming. This is a dream. I slowly open my eyes and then squeeze them shut again as the sun almost blinds me. It's so bright. I open my eyes again, and this time I fight against the brightness of the light and keep them open. Something large and furry jumps up on me, and I'm so disoriented from just waking up that it takes me a few seconds to realize it's my dog. She presses her nose to my cheeks, and then licks my face with her slobbery dog tongue.

"Penny!" I groan, and I try to push her away. She barks once in my ear, and I grimace as she jumps off of my bed. Ugh, why did she have to wake me up? I was having such a great dream. I rest my head against my pillow and close my eyes, hoping if I fall asleep fast enough, I'll be able to go back to the boy. But I don't know if it's going to be that easy. The air is smoky and salty. Someone is cooking bacon. My mouth waters, and just like that I'm not even tired anymore. Penny is sitting on the floor. Her tongue is hanging out and she's looking at me with bright eyes. I know why she woke me up. She knows I'm the only one in the house who will give her bacon. What a brat.

I get out of bed, walk over to my dresser, and pull on a pair of pajama pants. I don't usually wear pants to sleep in the summer, but I obviously can't go downstairs in my panties and t-shirt. As quickly as I can, I get dressed, with Penny barreling around me like a lunatic. She must be really hungry. I throw my hair back in a messy ponytail to get it out of my face, and then I go into the bathroom to brush my teeth before heading downstairs to find the source of the delicious smell that is getting stronger and stronger by the minute. My hunger pains are so intense that it hurts to walk down the stairs. I have to get food in me fast. Before I go on a killing spree.

My oldest brother, Dallas, is in the kitchen, and he's the one cooking the bacon. Weird. He's never cooked for us. Ever. He's got dark hair like mine, but it's even longer than mine is. Right now, it's pulled back in a ponytail (also like mine), but usually he just has it hanging loose. He's the tallest member of our family, standing at over six feet. He sees me and smiles. "Good morning, sleeping beauty." I give him a playful glare as he reaches into the cupboard and hands me a floral paper plate. "The eggs are done already, and the biscuits will be done in a few minutes. Help yourself."

I nod my head, wondering what has sparked my brother's inner chef, and walk over to the bowl filled with scrambled eggs, scooping myself a few spoonfuls as I wait for the rest to get done cooking. My mom walks down the stairs and into the kitchen just as my brother is taking the golden biscuits out of the oven. Her eyes widen a bit, and I can tell she's surprised to see my brother cooking as well. But she just smiles and says, "Mmm! Smells fantastic, Dallas!" She walks over and plants a kiss on his cheek. He's so tall that he actually has to lean down for her to reach. Dallas and my dad are both pretty tall. My mother and I are both on the shorter side (with my mother being just an inch taller than me). My other two brothers, Dalton and Dakota, are somewhere in the middle.

"Thanks," he says, wiping the sweat off of his face with a paper towel. "I've been practicing." This is shocking news. No one ever cooks in our family but my mother and me. We both stare at him for a few seconds, but he doesn't look up. He has a goofy smile on his face, though, and doey, glittering eyes. And it hits me like a freight train. He's doing all of this for a girl! I want to laugh. My brother and I are both pining over someone. I wonder if he's actually had more than one conversation with the girl. If so, then he's done more than I have. I reach for a piece of bacon and take a bite. It's crunchy. Just the way I like it. I toss a small piece to Penny, who catches it in the air and then runs out of the kitchen happily. Mission accomplished.

My dad comes down into the kitchen a few minutes later, and he's already dressed for the day. He's wearing jeans and an old t-shirt covered in grease stains. These are his work clothes. Funny, a lot of dads wear suit and ties to work. I don't think I have ever seen my dad in a suit and tie. He's just not that kind of guy, you know? But it is what it is. Honestly, I like it better this way. I hear horror stories about dads who work in offices and have to dress nice for work. They make a lot of money, but they're never home. I would much rather have my dad here. He's one of those cool dads, and he's pretty fun to be around most of the time.

When my dad sees Dallas is cooking breakfast instead of my mom or me, his eyes turn suspicious. He folds his arms across his chest and says, "What did you do?"

Dallas turns and looks at him. Again, his eyes are dopey. He's clearly smitten with someone. Wow, is my dad that clueless? "Nothing." Our dad raises his eyebrows, and Dallas throws his hands up in the air defensively. "I swear! I just have this friend who's a great cook. She's been trying to teach me, and I thought I would try out my new skills for my family."

"New girl?" my mom says just as my dad says, "Guinea pigs. Great." I can't help it. I burst out laughing. My mom is a hopeless romantic, and my dad is always so suspicious of everything. I guess that's what happens when you raise three boys. He walks over to Dallas, who hands him a pre-made plate, and then takes a seat by me. He pokes me in the back playfully, and I grin.

Dallas does not give us any information on his new friend, not even after our mom asks him a dozen questions about her. My poor mother. She wants grandchildren, and she's always pestering my brothers about their love lives, hoping they'll confide in her that they're desperately in love and want to get married or whatever. It hasn't happened yet, and even though my brothers are all still pretty young (Dallas is the oldest, and he's in his late twenties), my mom is starting to lose hope. My dad... well, he's just dad. He wants grandkids, too, but he's not crazy about it. If he gets them then great. If he doesn't... well, oh well.

Because Dallas doesn't tell us anything about his mysterious friend, my mother turns her attention to me. "So, Lauren. What are your plans today?" Before I even have a chance to open my mouth, she asks, "Did you fill out the forms for Suzie like she asked?" My stomach muscles tighten, but I smile and nod. "Excellent!"

"Whoa, what's going on?" my dad says, looking between my mom and me. "What am I missing here?"

Again, I open my mouth, but she cuts me off. "Lauren is entering this classical music competition in Spokane. The prize is ten grand, and Suzie's friend, who's the host for the show, believes that she has a really good chance. And apparently some of the people who work for the competition work for Juilliard as well. So she can make connections, too. It'll be great!"

My dad looks at me, and in an instant, I can tell he knows. He knows I don't want to do it. I don't know how he knows, but he does. He's weirdly intuitive when it comes to me. I avert my eyes and take a stab at my scrambled eggs. "That's great, honey," he says. He's not going to tell anyone. He knows it's none of his business. He knows it's up to me to say something. The problem is... I just can't figure out how. "Good luck. We'll be cheering you on in the audience, as always."

"Thanks, Dad," I say, and I mean it. He has never, not once, missed a recital or a competition of mine. He's so supportive of what I do, and I still can't get over the fact that he cried when he saw I got into Juilliard. Lately, though, I can sense something in him. Something different. A sadness. I think he's sad I'm leaving, too, even though he would never say it out loud. He probably doesn't want to upset me or make me feel guilty. But he has no idea I'm already feeling this way. And nothing he can say or do will make it any worse or better.

The front door opens, and we hear a loud, booming voice yell, "Good morning, family!" It's my other two brothers. My dad sighs just as Dakota and Dalton walk into the kitchen. They look just like Dallas and our dad, but Dakota has a goatee, and Dalton has a buzz cut. We say our good mornings back to them as they both grab plates and start digging in. Somehow there's enough breakfast for all of us, and I wonder if Dallas knew they were coming. Then again, it wouldn't take a genius to figure it out. They come for breakfast almost every morning. That's just how things work in my family. We're very close, but we're not very open. We love each other, and we love to be around each other. But we're all so closed off. I see this when I look at my dad, who has that shadow of sadness over his eyes, and when I look at my oldest brother, who seems to be glowing. And I wonder what they see when they look at me.

***

The day is halfway over when Claire texts me and reminds me I promised I'd go with her to the bonfire. I groan and ask her, via text, where it's going to be and what time it starts. She writes back that it's going to be at Wesley's family's beach house, and it starts at seven. Wesley is Kev's best friend, but they're total opposites. Wesley is really sweet, but not all that handsome. He's got really bad acne, and his dirty blonde hair looks like it's never been brushed in his life. But, just like Claire, Sam, and I, they've known each other their entire lives. I have no idea how they could've grown up to be so different. But seriously, even though Kev is really hot, I'd much rather spend my time with Wesley. At least he's not a complete and utter tool.

I check the time. It's almost five now. I sigh and start digging around in my closet, looking for a cute beach outfit to wear. I find a pair of green denim shorts with little holes in the legs, a faded New York City t-shirt, and a bright red fringed cardigan that will match my red flip-flops and my brand-new red sunglasses. Then I set my clothes on my bed and hop in the shower, shaving all the parts of my body that are going to be exposed. Afterward, I take a blow dryer to my hair, put on my makeup, and dress in the clothes I picked out for the party. I dig around a bit in my jewelry box and find some black bangle bracelets, a pair of peacock earrings, and a long necklace with a key pendant. This whole process, believe it or not, takes at least two hours. I'm just barely ready when it's time to leave.

On my way out the front door, I call my mom and let her know where I'm going. She asks me when I'll be back, and I tell her I'll try not to stay out too late. It's more wishful thinking than anything. I'm only going to this bonfire for Claire and Sam, and I'm hoping that, once they see Kev with someone else, they'll want to leave. My mom tells me she hopes I have fun and that I stay safe. I hang up the phone and walk to my car, put the key in the ignition, and start my trek to Wesley's beach house. It's not too far out of the main town, and it's sitting right on the beautiful Lake Coeur d'Alene. By the time I get there I'm surprised to see there are already a ton of cars. Claire, Sam, and I should've come together. Would've been much easier. I have no idea how I'm going to find a parking spot.

After a few minutes of me cursing loudly in my car, I finally find a spot to park. The moment I step out of the car I can hear the loud blast of modern hit music from inside the house. I take a deep breath and make my way to the front door. Ringing the doorbell would be absolutely pointless. I can't imagine that anyone would be able to hear me with all the noise. So I do the polite thing and just walk in, texting Claire and Sam that I'm here as I step over the threshold to the main house. Just as I expected, there are a bunch of teenagers inside, all with those red solo cups in their hands dancing to the rhythm of the dumb music. A girl I don't know bumps into me, almost spilling her beer all over my clothes. She doesn't even apologize as she walks away, leaving me growing red with annoyance by the door.

I look around the room for Sam or Claire, but I can't find them. They haven't answered me back either, which ticks me off. After pushing past people for twenty minutes, I decide to go out into the backyard, thinking maybe they're out by the bonfire. The outside is almost as crowded as the inside, but it doesn't take me long to find Sam leaning against a wall. She's wearing her sunglasses, and her arms are folded, which means she's one hundred percent pissed. Uh oh. What did Claire do now? I hesitate briefly, wondering if I even want to deal with the drama. Then I make my way over to her.

She looks up when she sees me, but she doesn't take off her sunglasses. Also not a good sign. "Hey," I say, leaning against the wall with her and mimicking her cross-armed pose. She doesn't say anything, so I ask her. "Where's Claire?" A scoff escapes her lips, and she points a finger at a couple sitting on one of the beach chairs flirting and laughing. It takes me a few seconds to realize it's Claire. And she's with.... Oh God. No. Ugh, it's Kev. I rip my eyes away from them and look at Sam, whose nose is wrinkled with anger. "What the hell? How did that happen?"

"How do you think?" she growls. "She walked in and sought him out immediately. You know, like she always does. He offered her a drink, she drank it. He offered her another, she drank it. Before you know it... this is happening." She rolls her eyes, but I can see the hurt on her face. "So much for the pact." I look over at them again, and I'm surprised to see his hand is on her knee. Claire is really doing this tonight. She's really decided to make the move and go after Kev after all these years.

It takes everything in me not to go over there and pull her away from him. But I restrain myself and look away, acting like they don't exist. Then I look at Sam, who's taking a large sip of what I'm sure is pop, because if Claire's been drinking then Sam must be the DD. "Let's get away from here," I say. Sam looks at me, but the look she gives is not a pleasing one. I shake my head, knowing exactly what she's thinking. "I don't mean leave. We can't just leave her here by herself. But we don't have to babysit her. Look around, Sammy! Everyone's having fun. Why aren't we?" This is so unlike me, but I hate seeing the hurt in Sam's eyes, and I'll do anything to distract her at this point.

Sam looks briefly back at Claire, and then smiles. "You know what? You're right. Screw her. We can have fun on our own." I smile despite the little rock that's beginning to form in my stomach. Claire, Sam, and I are best friends, and we don't fight much. But it seems like, when we do fight, it usually starts with Sam and Claire. And I do not want to be in the middle of their drama right now. I love them, but I have enough to deal with on my own without them adding problems to my constantly spinning brain. Especially problems that involve a boy like Kev. She moves away from the wall. "What do you want to do?"

I shrug my shoulders. "I don't know." We fall silent for a few seconds, and I take in the sound of the music. It's so poppy. Not my usual style at all. But it does have a catchy beat. Very techy. I usually hate this kind of music, but this song is making me want to dance. "Let's dance." Her eyes widen, and she stares at me like she doesn't know who I am. I laugh at her expression. "Oh, come on. I know this music sucks, but it would be better than just standing here. And besides, maybe we can get you a cute guy for the night to hangout with, too."

Now she laughs. "You're hilarious," she says, and I stick my tongue out at her playfully. "All right, fine. But if we're going to look like idiots on the dance floor then I'm going to need a drink. Drive us home later?"

"Sure," I reply. She starts to head into the house, but I call out to her, "Hey, wait! Will you get me a diet pop while you're in there?"

She waves her hand in the air as she continues to walk away, and I know she heard me. My eyes fall briefly back on Claire and Kev, but they aren't there anymore. He probably took her someplace more private. Ugh, the thought makes me want to gag. I just know this night is going to cause so much drama and fighting between Sam and Claire, and I really wish Claire would've just left Kev alone. Hopefully she has enough sense to not let Sam spot them together doing anything more than just flirting.

A few minutes go by, and I'm struck by how long it's taking Sam to come back with the drinks. Hmm, maybe she's waiting for me by the dance floor. Or maybe she decided to get food, too. I don't know, but I send her a text asking her what's taking her so long. She doesn't reply, and I start to get kind of worried. A sense of dread washes over me as I move away from the wall and start looking around for her, keeping my phone in my hand in case she does decide to message me back. The music is so ridiculously loud, and there are just too many people. I wish I could leave. I hate these kinds of things, and at this point I'm only staying here to keep Sam company. Now if only I knew where she was. I check my phone. It's been twenty minutes since she went to get drinks. What the hell is taking her so long? And why is she not answering my text messages?

I'm just about ready to go inside and look for her when my phone bings. Finally! I look at the message and see it's a nonsensical text from Claire. Probably a butt text. I roll my eyes, wondering how it's possible to send a butt text, and after deciding I don't want to know, I delete the message. I go to put my phone back in my pocket when I hear it bing again. This time it is from Sam. She writes that she's sorry it's taking her so long, and she hasn't got the drinks yet. "I'll explain when I see you," she writes. Uh oh. What happened? I bite my lip anxiously and look around. And that's when I see... oh my God. It's HIM. What is he doing here? My heart starts pumping three times faster than normal, and my head starts to spin. I need to get out of here. I need to go. I need to....

He looks up, and his eyes fall on mine. Just like they did the last time. A slow smile breaks out on his face, and he starts to walk over to me. And all of a sudden, I feel two inches tall. You'd think I'd be happy to see him. But I'm still so embarrassed about our encounter at the store, and I am not too keen on making a bigger fool of myself. I turn around and start walking away, hoping he'll just think I don't recognize him, and he'll leave me alone. But he doesn't. He keeps walking toward me, and when I keep walking away, he cups his hands and shouts out, "Hey, Counter Girl!"