It's Valentine's Day, and while it happens to fall on a Monday and life is hectic, I still find myself hopeful. This is the day for romance. The day when men find their courage and do the unthinkable. So maybe Seth will step out of his hood of friendship and risk asking me that one little question that could move us forward. It wouldn't even take any courage for him because I'm pretty sure he knows by now that I'd never turn him down.

Except that it was kind of my idea to avoid each other for a while as we figured things out.

That's beside the point though. What's really important right now is the fact that I've barely heard a peep from the man since he practically kissed my face off. And I get it. We both have very different, very busy schedules this semester. And working at the antique shop isn't helping with that. But, the bright side?... at least I'm busy. Gives my brain a lot less free time to wonder about him.

But I still wonder... during all the in-betweens, I wonder.

It's almost time for dinner before I make it back to my dorm. Once again my thoughts have drifted to Seth. Maybe he's waiting for me in my dorm room again or maybe I'll step through the threshold to find a sea of rose petals in the shape of a heart on my bed. Will there be a love letter hidden under my pillow? Maybe he's left a romantic voicemail instead.

I pull my phone from my pocket just to make sure he hasn't tried to reach me, but there's nothing. Even my cell phone is lonely this Valentine. Unlocking my door, I push it open to find the place empty with nothing out of order. It's the most depressing sound as I close the door behind me, the soft click getting sucked into the stillness. My ears hum, the sound of emptiness echoing around me.

Flopping down on my bed, I let myself sympathize with all the other people in the world who feel forsaken on this day. Especially those who are all too familiar with the feeling. I've been single on Valentine's before, but it was always by choice. It never bothered me. But it bothers me now because it feels like it doesn't have to be this way. I think Seth likes me, I really do. But I can't figure out why he hasn't bothered to make a move at all. It's always me being the bold one, taking the risk. I'm tired of feeling led on. Of course, I know that's not his intention. But really, how much time does he need to figure out his emotions? Either he wants something with me or he doesn't.

I must fall asleep still bundled in my winter coat and sweatpants because I wake up in the middle of the night sweating like a diabetic horse going through menopause. I fumble around the room, stripping off layers as I make my way to the bathroom. Splashing water on my face, I let myself stand against the cool tiled wall for several minutes while I cool down. With nothing but my bra and undies on, I shuffle back to my room and throw myself onto my bed.

It's not until the next morning that I realize what all I missed through the night. As the sun throws itself through my window, splattering patches of light around my room, I glance over to find Emma still snuggled deep beneath her covers. I have no idea when she got back last night, but I'm curious how she ended up spending her night. All I know is that she's been dealing with some drama concerning Trevor, so last night could have bettered or worsened things.

Shoving my hands under my covers, I search blindly for several minutes before finally finding my phone on the floor beside my bed. It must have fallen out sometime in the night. Grabbing it, I tap the button to wake it up and my eyes widen. Several texts and a missed call, some from Shonice, one from Jamison, and the rest from Seth.

I read over the messages, but find nothing very concerning in them. Basically, they're all wondering where I am and asking me to call Seth when I get a chance. Baffled, I check the time on my phone, relieved to find it's a reasonable hour to call him back, and then hit his name. It only rings twice before I hear the deep rumble of his tired voice on the other end.

"Hey," he says, voice husky with sleep.

"Whoops... sorry," I mutter, "were you still sleeping?"

I hear him yawn and then he mumbles a "yeah." Clearing his voice he adds, "It's fine. You good?"

"Uh..." I glance around my room as if someone's going to step out of the shadows and clue me in on what's going on. Something happened to him last night, so why's he asking if I'm okay? "Yes? Are you?"

I hear him yawn again and a smile blooms across my face.

"You know what," I start to say, standing and making my way toward my dresser to change, "I'll just come to you. You like your coffee black, right?"

"Um... yes?"

"Ok," I pull on a pair of jeans, hugging the phone between my ear and shoulder, "dunk your head in some cold water or something. Just be ready for me in fifteen."

He chuckles, the sound raspy and dry as he responds with a "Yes, ma'am."

After brushing my teeth, spritzing myself in a perfume bath, and throwing my hair into a messy bun, I'm out the door. With a coffee and a chai latte in hand, I hurry to Seth's dorm and make my way to his floor. I use my elbow to knock and then wait. My foot doesn't stop tapping the entire minute that I stand there wondering what could possibly be taking so long.

Finally, the door swings open and there he is. Beautiful as ever. He smells incredible and I can tell by the shine of his hair and the way his shirt is clinging to his skin that he must have just stepped out of the shower. He rarely wears short-sleeved shirts, but for once he's blessing me with a full view of the intricate art sewn up and down his arms. My tongue becomes paralyzed at the sight, all energy going to my eyes as they absorb the lines of definition along his abdomen and the muscles straining against his sleeve.

His perfection is disturbing. I swear he's been photoshopped into my life. It's as if someone enhanced all his best features and erased anything I might find unpleasant just so I'd be horrifyingly drawn to him. It's torture... well, unless he's meant to be mine. Then I'll consider it a massive blessing. I would not mind having all of that to myself.

I'm definitely being awkward as I stand gaping at him, but I've lost the ability to care. The only way to cover up an awkward situation is to make it more awkward. That's what I tell myself anyway. So, instead of trying to hide my obsession, I blink and let my eyes trail over him again... and again... and again, until a smile cracks my hypnotized expression. When Seth shakes his head, laughing as he steps aside to let me in, I think that maybe my plan worked this time.

"You're odd," he mutters, letting me pass by.

Okay, so maybe I'll never master not being weird, but Seth seems to have accepted that part of me.

"Thank you," I respond, turning to hand him his coffee before taking a seat on a bean bag near the window.

Seth takes a seat on his bed, pulling back the small tab on the lid of his coffee cup and taking a tentative sip. He hisses when the liquid hits his tongue, shaking his head as he pulls the drink away, clutching it in his lap.

"Hot," he whispers, running his tongue along his teeth—like that's going to somehow reduce the sting.

Smiling, I pull the lid off my drink and blow away the steam. "So," I begin, "care to tell me what happened last night?"

"Oh jeez." Seth runs a hand down his face, shaking his head. "Okay, so first, I think I need to apologize for doubting you."

My face twists into confusion, but he continues talking.

"Turns out you were right all along."

I squint, straining to understand.

"About Cassandra."

My mouth falls open forming a silent 'Oh' as I nod slowly. "Right. Yes." I'm smiling now, pleased to be right about something for once. "I'm thrilled that you've realized the truth, but, uh... how am I right about her?"

"She came over last night," he begins, attempting to sip his coffee again. "It was a mess. Started off okay. She just wanted to talk about some drama at home, and then she started acting really strange. I don't know if it's because I wasn't comforting her. I mean, I was listening, trying to say all the right things, but she just kept pushing. She'd step closer, take my hand, hint at needing more physical contact with 'certain' people. Just," an exasperated sigh leaves his lips, "so over the top."

"What'd you do?"

"Well," he starts to explain, "she always tries to get more physical. Like with the kiss that one day."

I nod, remembering very well.

"But," he adds, "she's just always trying to hold my hand, or lay her head on my shoulder. When I told her I wasn't interested in her that way, she did back off for a little bit..." he sips his coffee, "until last night."

"Uh oh."

"Yeah," he agrees, absentmindedly. "She came with the excuse that she needed to talk, and then ended up crying into my shoulder."

He scoots back on his bed until he reaches the headboard, legs stretched out in front of him. I watch him stuff his pillows behind his back and take another drink before he continues.

"She just doesn't understand boundaries," he tells me. "Basically, she forced herself onto me—not like that," he adds when he sees my expression, "She was just constantly touching me and snuggling up to me. Tried to kiss me again. It was just too much."

"Did you at least tell her she needed to leave you alone?" I ask, needing to hear a yes from his lips.

"No," he admits, taking another sip of coffee. His eyes meet mine above the rim of his cup, a determined intensity woven into them. He swallows, setting the cup in his lap again. "I told her I was interested in someone else."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

His eyes stay locked on me and as much as I want to look away, I can't. I'm the 'someone else'. But, as much as Seth and I have flirted and talked about feelings, not once has he come right out and told me how he feels. He's so careful, and I'm so not. My very first interaction with him was risky, and I'm starting to wonder if that's just how it will be with us. It'll always be me taking the lead, pushing our relationship further. And as long as he likes me, he'll be fine with that. But... I think I'd be happy if he did something daring at some point. I'm just not patient enough to wait.

I mean, it's been months since I forced my way into Seth's life and he hasn't done a darn thing to hint at wanting to take things further. As far as he's concerned, we're simply friends with a possible interest for more. If I let him take the lead, friends is all we'd ever be. It's frustrating, and yet, I'm partially to blame for the lack of change in our relationship.

For some reason, he still scares me. Not so much Seth as a person, but the feelings that he elicits in me. Those feelings scare me because it means he's got a lot more power over me than he realizes. If I ask him on a date and he refuses, he'd be breaking a heart he never even realized he was holding.

But, enough is enough, and I've definitely had enough.

"Alright," I begin, "change of topic. What do you have going on Saturday night?"

"Running some lines for our next project," he tells me. "Why?"

"Perfect!" Smiling, I finish off my chai latte and set it down on the floor beside the bean bag. "I'll help you."

Seth agrees without any pursuing and plans are made. Originally we'd planned to meet back up here at his dorm to practice lines, but when I mentioned it to my mom, she suggested I try for something a little more romantic.

Seth didn't even bat an eye when he heard the plans I'd made for us. Rather than staying cooped up in our dorms for the weekend, I offered my parents' house. They both had promised to spend the evening upstairs so Seth and I could run lines together in peace. And while I'm not an amazing cook—or even a good one, really—I happen to make a decent chicken casserole. So, I'd invited Seth to join me for dinner with the excuse that if he was already coming over he might as well stick around to eat. He didn't even hesitate to agree.

Saturday evening finally arrives and so does Seth, a whole two minutes early. I'm anything but ready for his arrival. I screwed up the casserole when I was putting it together and it took precious time fixing my mistake. My mom had done as much as she could to help and then she'd scurried upstairs with my dad as soon as Seth's headlights shown through the living room windows. I've only just stuck dinner in the oven when the doorbell rings and all I can do is groan with a dramatic eye roll. This guy's as punctual as my period, so I shouldn't be surprised—by that, I mean he always shows up before I'm ready.

I comb my fingers through my hair and take a quick sniff under my pits to ensure I smell decent enough, and then pull the door open. And, there he stands in all his casual glory. I'm instantly grateful for his early arrival because I'd definitely planned to dress up a tad more. With the way Seth is dressed, my black dress pants and cashmere sweater would have basically been a neon sign with the words 'I'm in love with you!' plastered on it.

"Hey," I say. We've hugged before, but with Seth's annoyance toward Cassandra's touchiness, I decide against wrapping my arms around him. Instead, I just stand there, clinging to the door.

"Hi." He smiles down at me, and my insides turn into an icky goo of delight.

"Come on in," I tell him, backing away from the entrance to allow him in.

"I forgot how much I liked this house," he says, his eyes scanning the tall ceilings of the living room. He's always been the type to make himself comfortable, and tonight isn't an exception. Without any instructions from me, he's throwing his backpack on the couch and swinging around to face me, a childish smile on his face.

I laugh, the awkward tension so thick I'm practically gagging on it.

"Want a drink?" I offer. "We've got tea, coffee, milk, or water."

He bites his lip, grinning mischievously. "Any chocolate milk, by chance?"

"Um," I slide my hair to one shoulder. "Yeah, actually. I'm pretty sure my mom's got some chocolate syrup in the fridge. We could make some chocolate milk."

As we head to the kitchen, he confesses his childlike love for chocolate milk, and I make a mental note to keep it in stock anytime I know he'll be around. In return, I confess my sick love for chocolate cake drenched in milk. It's a family tradition, and anyone who didn't grow up with it may not understand my devoted love for the stuff. It's magnificent.

I lead Seth to the kitchen and pull the needed ingredients from the fridge.

"We've got about thirty minutes before dinner's ready," I say, pouring him a cup of milk and stirring in the sweet syrup. Turning, I hand him the beverage as I lean my back against the counter and I glance up at him. "Should we get started on running lines?"

"Yup," he responds, guzzling half his drink before spinning on his heel to head back the way we came.

We get comfortable on my mom's beige leather couches, and Seth starts pulling items from his bag. I just watch as he lays out a baseball cap, one of his jersey's and some cologne.

"Uh..." My eyes dance between the items, trying to understand the purpose. I fail.

"I know what you're going to ask," he says, interrupting my confused thoughts. He surveys the items, pointing at each one as he silently checks off a list in his head. Apparently satisfied that he's remembered to bring everything, he shifts to face me. "I'm going to need you to put all of this on."

I laugh.

It's not even one of those cute ladylike laughs. No, this is a genuine, I'm-gonna-pee-my-pants kinda laugh. My watery eyes return to the items sprawled out on the coffee table, and my laughter starts all over again. I can see him grinning beside me, probably more amused by my reaction than anything else, but he's clearly serious about his words.

"You don't have to wear the jersey, I guess," he says, and I watch his eyes skim over my oversized t-shirt.

"Seth," I say, one final laugh escaping from my throat, "I mean, I know the co-star in this scene is meant to be a dude, but do I really have to dress up as one?"

He just shrugs innocently. "It helps me get into character."

I hum a response of acknowledgment and then reach for the jersey. I inspect the faded number fourteen on the back and then glance at Seth. "Why don't I have to wear this?"

His lips stretch into a smirk and he glances at my top again. "Well, clothing-wise, you already kind of fit the part."

I gasp in fake offense, punching him none too lightly in the arm. This just makes him laugh as he grips his wounded shoulder and hisses out a whispered, "ouch." I smile proudly at myself as I work to tuck my hair up underneath the baseball cap.

"That'll bruise," he mutters, pushing up his sleeve to take a peek at the injury. The material of his long-sleeved athletic shirt is stretchy enough that he's able to push it up over his bicep.

All I can do is stare. Even if my punch had inflicted some kind of damage, there'd be no evidence because his tattoos would have covered it up. The art painted across his body is beautiful and I'm curious as to the reasons behind each one. He's like a mysterious treasure chest, and I very much hope to pry him open.

I've got an idea on how to get started on picking his locks too. Spritzing myself in his cologne, I turn to face him directly. He's still rubbing his shoulder, his puppy-dog eyes a clear act to make me feel sorry for him. It doesn't work.

Instead, I scoot closer. The movement catches his attention and he glances down at me, his hand falling from his shoulder as suspicion clouds his features. His sleeve is still pushed up over his bicep, but he doesn't seem to notice.

"I know how you can make it up to me," I say. I try to come off as seductive as possible, but when I realize how stupid I sound, my face cracks into a smile. I'm holding back laughter as I watch his brows lift in concern.

"You realize you punched me, right? he says, completely oblivious to my attempts to sway him with my charm.

"After you insulted my appearance," I counter.

He just shrugs with an exaggerated sigh. "Fine. What is it?"

I mimic his actions with a simple shrug and smile the sweetest smile I can muster. "Go on a date with me. A real one."

Now, I've seen this happen in cartoons, but to watch a person's eyes nearly bug out of their head in real life is so much more comical. I've obviously caught him off guard—something I highly enjoy doing. He just stares at me for a moment, his face changing from shock, to doubt, to curiosity. But, the one emotion that I hoped to witness seems to be absent: delight. There's no sign of concealed affection in his gaze. Clearly, he hasn't gotten entirely past the 'friends' bump yet and this request has come entirely out of the blue.

I'm not one to back down or easily give up. So, when he doesn't respond for several excruciating heartbeats, I take matters into my own hands again.

"Listen, Seth," I tell him, my tone serious. "You can either agree on one date, or you can risk waking up drenched in my granny's sweet perfume with a freshly painted truck parked out front. I'm thinking pink. That'd be a nice change, right? And, I know where I can buy cheap spray paint." I watch his eyebrows lift higher and higher with each threat. "Maybe I'd even add some purple and green polka dots to it. Pretty sure my mo—"

"Okay, shut up," Seth says after listening to me rattle on about ways that I could torture him if he doesn't agree. "I was going to say yes anyway, but now," he pauses, his eyes searching my features in a way he's never done before. "Now, I'm definitely saying yes."

---

Happy Valentines!!! Posting this chapter today was totally unintentional. It just worked out. Haha! 

Sorry this chapter wasn't very romantic... Seth is just so lost when it comes to romance. Maybe Mercy can teach him a few things about SHOWING AFFECTION TO SOMEONE!!!! AHHHH!!! Are you guys going as crazy as I am with his confusing reactions to her??? He flipping kissed her, but does he LIKE her? He must, right?

And then there's Cassandra... at least he seems to be realizing her craziness now, right? *insert eye roll*