There's no knock on my door before it swings open, announcing Shonice's arrival as she struts into the room and throws herself over my bed. She's here to find out every detail about our previous night. Plus, I really need someone to talk to about Cassandra. Normally that'd be Seth, but since he seems to think he's actually friends with her, it's hard to know if he'd really hear my concern.

After our date last night, we'd finally been able to escape the monster and that's when the questioning began. Seth could obviously see that something was wrong. It's hard to act normal after someone's walloped you across the face. So, he asked if I wanted to go home and I'd agreed. The look on his face when I'd said goodbye was shattering. He thought he was responsible. He thought he'd screwed up. He thought the date was a flop.

"You just gonna stand there, or you gonna start spilling details?"

Shonice is sitting cross-legged on the bed now, one brow raised impatiently as she watches me.

And so I do. I recount everything that happened all the way up to Cassandra shoving her way into our date.

"...and then she slapped me."

Shonice had been smiling, but slowly, as my words sink in, her smile slips off her face and rage fills her features.

"Wait," she recoils, sitting up straighter, "You're telling me that she physically slapped you?"

"Yes." I nod once, definitively.

"Mercy!" she gasps, scooting to the edge of the bed and pinning me into Emma's desk chair with a wild look of horror. "She assaulted you and you said nothing? You did nothing?"

"Well, I don't plan to stay quiet about it," I justify. "I just need to get over this shock first."

"Yeah." Shonice nods. "I just can't believe people like this exist. Someone so evil that they'd physically harm a person out of jealousy. Like, I knew the girl was a mess, but this!" She shakes her head. "You think you'll go to the cops?"

I shrug, unsure about anything at the moment.

"She's a narcissist," Shonice tells me, "The type who will stop at nothing to get what they want. Apparently, Seth is the ego boost that Cassandra needs. She's desperate to feel good about herself and Seth's affection would do that. But, if he doesn't want her back, I'm a little worried that things will get really ugly. I mean, they already did... but it could get worse."

Shonice and I spend the next twenty minutes talking about the incident before she has to leave for class. I've still got an hour to spare, but I'm not much in the mood to go to class. Watching an action movie might help remove me from reality for a little bit, but when I flip through the options, nothing looks appealing.

Flopping onto my bed, I stare up at the ceiling, waiting for an idea to pop into my head. An idea about what to do about Cassandra, or how to spend the rest of my day. I'm so bored.

And then there's a pounding on my door.

"Come—"

It opens before I can even tell them to come in. Seth steps into the room, his eyes finding mine before he turns to shut the door. There's no greeting or delighted smile. Instead, he silently settles into Emma's chair and then rotates to face me.

"I can't believe you." There's a dark, accusatory tone to his voice, a tone I'm not accustomed to hearing from his lips. I watch his eyes nail me in place, slices of green melding with the faintest honey brown. How can such beautiful eyes carry such sharpness?

"Are you mad at me?" I ask, baffled. I don't think I did anything wrong, did I? Was there something I said or did that pissed him off that I'm completely unaware of?

"Yes!" The word leaves his lips on a breath and he bends over, shoving his fingers into his hair as he drops his elbows to his knees. "I'm mad that you didn't come to me," he says, looking up at me as he slides a hand down the back of his head and digs his fingers into his neck.

"About?" I let my question hang in the air until he speaks.

"Cassandra." He sits up straight again, narrowing his eyes at me. "Is it true? She hit you?"

"Shonice didn't need to tell you that," I say, rubbing my eyes as I find myself suddenly extremely tired. "I was going to tell you."

"When?" he demands, though his demeanor remains calm. His ticking jaw is the only sign of his frustration. "After she ruins your face? Or breaks a few bones? Sends you to the ER?"

I laugh at his dramatics. "You really think it'd go that far? She's a jealous girl who can't get what she wants. She'll move on eventually."

"Yeah," he agrees, "or she won't." He sighs, slouching into Emma's swivel chair. "I should have seen all this in her. I know the signs. I've grown up watching people pretend to care just to gain something. How did I miss it in her?"

I want to comfort him in some way. I see that he's emotionally beating himself up over this. His mind is snagging on 'what if's' and shredding his trust in people. Standing, I grab my plastic laundry basket, dump the contents and then turn it upside down to be used as a stool. Dragging it next to Seth, I take a seat and place my hand on his arm.

"Maybe we're both learning something here," I murmur, voice soft, almost delicate.

His eyes lift to analyze the way my fingers are skimming across the slopes of muscle running along his forearm. I trace the image of a rose that's painted into his skin, following the curves and shadows until a small gasp leaves my lips.

I'd never seen it before but blended into the petals are the delicate curves of two glossy eyes, a petite nose, and a mouth. It's an illusion and now that I'm seeing the girl hidden inside the flower, I can't unsee her. She's young and flawless. Barely smiling, but radiating peace and happiness.

The artist who designed the tattoo must have been a magician. Swirling the petals on the flower with such intricate detail that they twist and contort, blending into smooth strands of hair around the girl's face. I shift my focus up to Seth's face and find him watching me. I try to smile, letting my thumb trail over the tattoo before glancing back down at it.

"Haley?" I ask, absorbing every detail of her face.

I see him nod out of my peripheral vision. "Yeah," he mutters, seemingly unbothered by my curious eyes on his skin.

"She's beautiful." I can feel my lips stretch into a smile. When Seth doesn't respond, I look up to find him watching me. There's an intensity in his eyes that makes it difficult to look away.

"You're beautiful," he counters, dropping his eyes away from me and laughing in embarrassment.

I just blink at him.

"Sorry," he gushes, rubbing at the back of his neck. "That was cheesy."

"But was it true?" I can't help but ask. Seth's never given off any signs of being a romantic person. Aside from that one kiss, he's never even hinted at really being attracted to me. So, hearing this sudden confession is startling.

All timidity leaves his expression and I watch his brows dip, eyes scouring my face for answers. "Really?" he questions, apparently not finding the information he'd been looking for. "You don't think I'm attracted to you?"

Now I'm the one who feels uncomfortable. Shifting, I let my hands drop into my lap. "I mean, I assumed there was some kind of attraction," I admit, "but, I don't know, you've never mentioned anything. You're so mysterious about your feelings—which I suppose is what most girls find alluring—but it's impossible to know what you think."

He considers my words for a moment, nodding thoughtfully. "Well," he shrugs, "if you must know, I've always been attracted to you. Since day one when you totally took advantage of me." He nudges my arm with his elbow, smiling as he continues. "But, I don't pick a girl based on how she looks. I learned not to do that long ago. You could have been Miss Universe and I wouldn't have reacted any differently."

"So, you'd date someone you had no physical attraction to as long as they were a good person?" I ask, genuinely curious.

He crosses his arms, muscles straining against his shirt as he ponders my question. "I don't know," he tells me. "I mean, I think there would have to be some level of attraction. But, I've always believed that attractive lives just below skin-level and it rises to the surface with time—if they're a decent person, of course." He ruffles his hair and grins, dropping his head to the floor. "That felt way too poetic to be genuine, but it's true. You don't have to be gorgeous to become gorgeous."

I nod, finding truth in his words. "So," I say, a sly grin tugging at my lips, "have I gotten more or less attractive?"

He laughs, shaking his head. "You are quite possibly the most impatient person on the planet."

"How?"

"You never just wait," he responds. "You've always got to have answers right away." He's still smiling as he speaks, but I can tell that what he's saying is coming from a place of depth, like he's been mulling this over for a while. "Maybe I'm not ready to share that with you yet," he continues after a long pause. "Maybe I'd like to someday express myself without feeling like you're pulling answers out of me."

"Oh." I want to laugh because this isn't the first time I've been called impatient. But I keep my composure because I can also tell that this is a genuine frustration for Seth. He's being open and real with me. I'd hate to undermine this moment of honesty by finding amusement in it.

"So," he says, swiveling his chair so that we're facing each other, his legs brushing against mine and somehow kicking up the heat in the room. "How have we both learned from this?"

I unlatch my brain from thoughts of Seth finding me attractive and force it to remember what we'd been discussing prior. Somehow this whole Cassandra thing has been teaching us both something, but I'm struggling to remember what. I scratch my cheek, thinking.

"Oh, right!" I say a moment later. "So, I mean, I don't wanna rub it in your face that I was right all along about Cassandra—even though I totally was," I smirk at him. "But, aside from that, just watching you interact with people. The way you're so accepting and kind. It's taught me to stop being so judgmental."

Seth latches his feet around my laundry basket chair and absentmindedly rolls himself closer to me as he listens. Our knees knock but he doesn't seem to notice.

"Watching you," I continue, "has emphasized the fact that I can be a real jerk sometimes. I'd judge everyone and if someone annoyed me or offended me in some way, I'd typically drop them. I made friends only to benefit myself. This has taught me the value of seeking something deeper than just an ego-boosting friendship."

I go quiet for a moment as a realization dawns on me. Tucking my hands between my legs, I lift my gaze to Seth. He's already watching me, but he must sense the shift in my spirit because his brows dip in concern. "I realize I've never had a best friend until now. My friends were always just there because I hated being alone."

Seth leans forward, taking both of my hands between his. He doesn't say anything, but I wouldn't expect him to. He's typically a man of few words, but he also knows when talking isn't necessary. Just a touch—a reassurance—that's all I need. I'm not alone anymore.

"And what have I learned?" he asks after a moment, his voice smooth. I watch his fingers slide across my wrist and I realize just how fragile and delicate my hand looks in his. I've never felt more feminine and desirable than I do when Seth's attention is on me. The thought alone causes a flare of heat to stir in my stomach. He doesn't need to tell me he finds me attractive because his actions say it all.

"I think you've allowed your Carl experience to overshadow your intuition sometimes," I begin, feeling as though I need to tread softly when it comes to topics of Seth's past. "I'm grateful that Carl helped you realize that not everyone is what they appear, but it seems you've missed a vital part of that lesson."

Seth's fingers circle my wrist, his thumb sliding back and forth against my pulse and waking it up.

"Somehow," I tell him, "Carl allowed you to hope. As a kid, you lived in a world of people who let you down, and Carl woke up something inside of you that you needed. You needed that hope to survive. But, I worry that maybe it went too far. You want to give everyone the benefit of the doubt. Rather than simply give people a chance to prove themselves, you get stuck in this state of denial, like you truly believe every single person is decent, and sometimes it just takes time to find it."

Suddenly Seth's hands leave mine and drop to my thighs, just above my knee. He squeezes gently, maybe as a way of signaling that he agrees with me. I'm not sure, but it's causing my thoughts to explode inside my head. I can't remember what I was saying or how to even get back on topic.

"You're right," he admits, leaning back in his seat and breaking all physical contact with me.

I feel my muscles instantly relax even as they ache for his touch again.

"If anything," he keeps going, "my childhood should have made me more wary of people. I mean, there are very few people in the world that I actually trust, but I always try not to judge people based on appearance or even a few little quirks. Seems I need to find a balance."

"Yeah," I agree. "Follow your heart, kinda thing."

Seth shakes his head, making a 'nuh uh' sound in the back of his throat. "I think that stuff is bull. The last thing we need to be doing is following our hearts. You can't make a big decision based on a 'feeling'. Feelings can be dangerous. Heck, if I'd followed my heart with you, we wouldn't even be friends."

I gasp, hand flying to my chest. "How dare you?"

Seth chuckles and shrugs a single shoulder. "I mean... I'm not lying. You were a little bit eccentric. I labeled you as unpredictable—"

"Check."

"irresponsible—"

"Check"

"Reckless, childish, arrogant—"

"Check, check, check."

He smiles at me, tapping the arm of his chair with the tip of his finger.

"Any other insults you'd like to accurately label me with?"

"Uh..." He glances at the ceiling like the answer might be written there. I follow his gaze before focusing back on his face again. "Forward, spunky, honest, free, extraordinary... perceptive." His expression has turned serious, his attention riveted to my reaction as each adjective leaves his lips. "Charming..." More searching. "Dependable..." He leans forward and slides his hand over my thigh again, but this time he's aware of the action, his focus not leaving my face as he moves in closer.

"You, Mercy Nicolson, are smart and authentic." I feel my breath hitch with each description. When he reaches out to push a strand of hair away from my face, my body turns to steel. I stop breathing as he tucks the strand behind my ear, his eyes watching his own movements before settling back on my blue gaze. "I think you might be perfect."

Maybe it's the pressure in the room, his suffocating attention on my face, the heavy honesty in his tone. I don't know what it is, but for some reason, I crack. My body can't contain it any longer and my lips break apart, a small chuckle leaving my lips.

"And how is that funny?" Seth smirks, leaning back into his seat as he watches my reaction.

"I'm sorry." Groaning, I cover my mouth with my hands. "I'm so inappropriate."

"Oh right," he nods slowly, pointing at me, "I forgot that one. Inappropriate. Very accurate description."

I laugh, slapping his knee where it sits resting against mine. "I just... I can't handle serious conversations very well. The intensity somehow just brings out my crazy."

Seth quirks a brow. "I'm not sure if your crazy ever goes away."

"I don't know," I pucker my lips thoughtfully, "I think she sometimes just hides out, watching for the perfect opportunity to throw people off."

Seth's eyes glimmer with amusement, but he doesn't respond. Instead, the room goes quiet as we sit knee-to-knee. With a gentle hand to my leg, he pushes his seat away from me and stands up.

"How about dinner?" he asks, reaching a hand down to me and pulling me up.

"Are you asking me on a date?" The question leaves my lips dripping with astonishment and unmasked delight.

Seth must notice because his mouth tugs to the side just before he rubs his thumb along his bottom lip, like he's trying to hide his own delight from me.

Clearing his throat, he narrows his eyes and leans forward just enough to whisper, "Yeah. Is that a problem?"

"The only problem I have is that this is only your first time ever asking me out." I shove his shoulder, trying to pretend like I'm furious but he snags my wrist in his hand and tugs me forward. My palms land against his chest, the soft fabric of his hoodie doing nothing to conceal the strength hidden beneath it.

Leaning down, his mouth hovers over my ear. "Maybe you should change."

I move back just enough to glance down at my sweatshirt and yoga pants and then quirk an eyebrow at Seth.

"Not that I have a problem with you in yoga pants," he defends, "but the place I'm taking you has somewhat of a dress code..." He scratches his jaw. "Somehow, I just don't think your hotdog house slippers are gonna cut it."

I glance down, the hideous fluffy footwear that I'd previously forgotten about now stare up at me like guilty criminals. They're ugly and soft and perfect. But with a sigh, I fling them off in defeat and tell Seth to give me five minutes. I consider changing and glamming up my face, but I can't be bothered. Besides, Seth really only said I needed to change my shoes. So, that's what I do... and I brush my teeth—just in case. Then I'm ready to go.

"You look..." Seth's eyes travel up and down my body, a reaction that'd have most women shuddering, but the slight wince on his face doesn't do much to boost my ego.

"Yes...?" I goad, flapping my eyelashes at him in a way that I imagine looks cartoonish.

He smiles, wrapping his arm around my shoulder and squeezing me into his side. "At least you smell better than you look."

"Thanks," I grin. "Can't say the same for you," I add, giving his armpit a look of disgust. Truth is, he smells delicious and it's waking up my pulse and making my chest squeeze and expand at the same time.

The smell of spring tickles my nose as we step outside. It's strong enough to imprint itself in my memory but faint enough to remain a mystery. It's a swarm of subtleties—a wisp of spearmint mingled with a misting of crisp apples and fresh-cut grass. I inhale deeply, grateful for the warmer weather.

"Hungry?" Seth asks, sliding his hand into my back pocket.

Normally I'd jump away from such intimate contact, but Seth doesn't even seem to notice that he's done it. The strangest part about it is how natural it feels. Sliding my arm around his lower back, I tuck my own hand into his pocket. This manages to get his attention and he stops walking, turning to me with a naughty grin and a raised eyebrow.

"Comfy?" he asks, all about the one-word questions.

"Absolutely." I snuggle deep into his side again as we resume walking.

"Me too," he murmurs, wiggling his fingers in my pocket. "Me too."

----

Anyone agree that 'following your heart' can be dangerous?

Personally, I think our world focuses way too intently on 'emotions' these days. I believe (and maybe this is just my Christian perspective) in order to make wise decisions, we need a healthy level of logic too. Our hearts can be deceptive, so we have to be careful about what we allow to motivate our decisions. 

What do you think? Have you ever made an emotionally-charged decision that you regretted later?