"Are you sure about this?" Naomi sat on the bed, watching me throw clothes into my suitcase.

It had been two days since what happened with Stephen in the woods. Theo and Naomi wanted to cancel the camping trip early because of my sob feast and my ankle, but I refused to let Stephen ruin our plans. Plus, my ankle was fine once the swelling went down.

We spent the weekend making s'mores, roasting weenies and vowing never to go camping again. I'd managed not to let Stephen overtake my thoughts. Well, not until I was alone while Naomi and Theo went for a "hike". I wasn't sure how much actual hiking they were doing.

While I had the tent alone, I read. Or tried to, at least.

Whenever I felt like crap I picked up a book and lived vicariously through the characters and their inevitable happy ending—that didn't work anymore. Stephen had ruined reading for me. Knowing his mom was my favorite author made rereading my favorite Sasha Keaton's out of the question, as well.

The one thing that always brought me comfort was tainted by the one person who ever broke my heart. At that point I was using my tears as bookmarks.

So, when we got back to the oversized house with the beautiful pool, I knew it was time to go back to my modestly sized, pool-less home.

My mom didn't even try to talk me out of it, like she knew I needed to get out of Burbank and far away from Stephen.

The wedding planning was practically finished, there were just a few loose ends my mom needed to tend to. She promised to be home within the week, two at the most.

Shontell's wedding was the first week of August. Our lives would be back to normal soon and I couldn't wait.

"Yes,' I told Naomi, pulling more clothes from the drawers and stuffing them into the suitcase.

Naomi seemed to be the only one pushing back against my decision to leave. I think she was feeling guilty about the whole Theo thing and was secretly hoping I'd make up with Stephen so we can double date and I wouldn't be a third wheel. Okay, I didn't "think", I knew it for a fact because I overheard her talking to Theo about when they thought I was sleeping.

It was sweet, but it was never going to happen. Stephen didn't want me.

"He admitted that all he wanted to do was sleep with her," Theo said from beanbag chair in the corner, his voice dripped with venom. "You should let me go over there and kick his ass."

Naomi and I shared a look, both of us trying not to laugh. Theo had never been in a fight and Stephen could definitely take him.

Theo was right, though. Stephen told me he was interested in only one thing. But it didn't add up. Not once did Stephen attempt to get me in bed. When we kissed the other night, he was almost shy about it.

Stephen didn't want to sleep with me. Another wave of sadness hit knowing that Stephen was just saying things to push me away. Why? Did I do something wrong?

I tried to keep the tears at bay while I forced my suitcase to close. "Whatever," I said, yanking at the zipper. "I miss my bed and the public library.  Plus, we still have a few of weeks to do some of the things we planned."

Naomi didn't question my wanting to leave after that. Instead, she grabbed one of bags and headed for the stairs. Theo helped with my other suitcase and followed.

Looking around the room, I made sure I hadn't forgotten anything. My worn-out copy of Some Hearts Lie sat on the nightstand. Memories from the first reading date Stephen and I had together flashed in my head.

We were separated by like fifty feet, but it probably the most intimate moment I've ever had with a guy. Even if I fell asleep ten minutes into the reading.

The book also reminded me of the first day we met when he tried to convince me Foolish Summer was a better story than Some Hearts Lie. He even went as far as to impersonate the Kev from Foolish Summer.

Stephen and Kev couldn't have been more different. Maybe that was why Stephen impersonated him.

I admired the girls in books for being brave enough to do things I was too afraid to do. Kev could've been someone Stephen aspired to be.

Kev might've been a loner in the book, but he knew who he was and he didn't let anyone make him question himself.

Thinking back to all the times we've hung out that summer, I never once thought Stephen was being anything less than genuine. After the whole book festival thing, of course. But he was right, I'd only known him for about two months, what did I really know about him?

To answer that question, my brain decided to play a highlight reel of the moments I've had with Stephen. I knew he liked those weird 80s teen movies and he was a flirt and he always had a joke ready. I knew he'd do anything for a friend and that he'd always come through when you needed him to.

I knew he didn't mean what he said the other day.

Call it wishful thinking or denial, but the Stephen from that night wasn't the same Stephen that made a fort for me on the first day we met. I just hoped that Stephen wasn't gone for good.

• • •

I wasn't expecting to see Shontell in the living room when I went down to say my last goodbyes to my mom. My mom pulling me into a tight hug snapped me out of my shock.

"Your dad and Bryce will be home tomorrow," she told me, letting me breathe. "Apparently, Bryce is starting to miss wifi."

Before I could respond to that her phone rang.

"It's the florist," she announced, excusing herself. Her high-pitched, aggressively nice "professional" voice faded as she stepped down the hall.

"So, you're going back home?" Shontell asked once my mom was out of earshot. She was standing with her hands clasped in front her, looking regal in a purple dress and gold jewelry.

It was the first time I was face to face with Shontell—also known as Sasha Keaton. The author of the books that had me fantasizing about being in love. Whenever I thought about meeting her I imagined us discussing her books and asking her silly questions about who her favorite couple was and if she ever thought about writing a sequel to Some Hearts Lie.

Instead, being there with her filled me with sense of dread. Maybe it was because all the other times we had interacted she glared at me like I was the devil trying to corrupt her son.

"Yeah," I said, after an awkward pause. "I miss my bed."

She smiled in that polite way that let me know she knew I was lying. "It's because of Stephen, right?" She looked exhausted, like just saying his name was a lot of work. "I did try to warn you about him."

My brain couldn't process what is she was saying or why it was being said to me. What kind of mother talked about her child behind their back? Especially to one of their friends?

"That's a little messed up, isn't it?" The question flew from my mouth before I could think of the consequences. Shontell looked taken aback. I should've stopped there, but I couldn't.

It was obvious that stuff Stephen said at the campsite wasn't how he really felt. The way his mom treated him probably had something to do with it. Not once that summer had a seen a positive exchange between them. She glared at him almost as hard as she glared at me.

"Stephen might not be perfect, but he's not as bad as you make him out to be." It surprised me how much I meant what I said. "Maybe if you stopped criticizing him long enough you'd realize that!"

Shock took over her face, but she recovered quickly.

"Waverly!" My mom's harsh tone sucked the bravado right out of me. She was at my side in a second to apologize to her boss. "Shontell, I'm sorry. I don't know what's gotten into her—"

"It alright," Shontell said with a tight smile as she smoothed away imaginary wrinkles from her dress. "I know how teenagers can be. I'll just...show myself out."

As soon as Shontell left I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding and turned to my mom. "Mom, I'm sorry, I just—" I stopped when I caught the smirk on her face. "What?'

"I've been wanting to tell that woman off since we got here," she whispered as if Shontell had supersonic hearing. "I felt sorry for that boy, but it was not my place to bring up a mother's parenting."

I relaxed, glad I wasn't the only one to realize how mean she was being to her son. "So, I'm not in trouble?"

"Well, I was already paid," she said with a shrug. She then pulled me into another hug. "I know this summer wasn't what you expected. Next time I'll ask before volunteering you to be my assistant."

"Please do," I said with a laugh as I hugged her back.

That summer might not have been the one I visioned, but it was a summer of firsts. First fling, first heartbreak, the first time ever that I wasn't looking forward to reading the next Sasha Keaton book.

How could I read about two characters based on me and Stephen getting a happy ending when in reality everything went to crap?

That summer I realized complicated bad boys should stay inside the pages of a book.