We hike for two hours. Two hours! And I believe we're more lost than I've ever been in my life. That's a huge statement considering how directionally challenged I truly am. Not one to whine, I continue to trudge behind the two survivalists in front of me, freezing to death under the weight of my heavy, wet clothes. Neither of them seems willing to admit we made a few thousand wrong turns, and rather than forfeit their masculinity, they pretend they know where they're going.

"There!"

Jamison's voice breaks through our lack of conversation and Seth and I glance up.

"What?" I ask, coming to stand beside Jamison in hopes of seeing what he sees. "Wow... more trees! Exciting."

He grabs my head between his hands and—none too gently—jerks my head a few inches to the left.

"There!" He mutters again, pointing through the trees. "Lights. See, I told you."

His smug tone grinds my nerves as I strain to see what he's seeing. I shift my head slightly until a small twinkling catches my eye. A town must be just through these trees.

"Oh, so you really did know where you were taking us," I tease. "How foolish of me to think it might have been a coincidence."

"Cool it, Merc."

Seth's voice startles me and I glance in his direction. We're all tired and on edge, but his admonishment stings my pride. It's enough of a sting to smudge the effect my nickname might have normally had coming from his lips.

I rub my eyes, picking up my pace and leaving the two boys behind me. It's almost three in the morning and this little adventure lost its excitement about three hours ago. Now, I'm just dying to be in bed. Heck, I'd settle for a pallet of hay or a nice flat rock for all I care. I just want to sleep somewhere I know the bears and coyotes won't be able to snack on me.

It takes us forty minutes to find a hotel and the only one of us smart enough to have their wallet with them is Seth. We get one room and then Jamison and I take the two twin beds since Seth insists on sleeping on the narrow couch. There is no arguing. We don't even bother turning on lights or brushing our teeth, we just drop into bed and fall asleep.

——— 

I wake up to the slam of a door. My blurry eyes scan the still room, searching for the source, but it seems there's no one here. My hand flops to the side table to check the time on my phone but it's not there. Hands fumble with the blankets, diving into the crevices only to realize my phone is still in Jamison's Land Rover—wherever that might be.

Groaning my way out of bed, I peer around the corner to find the bathroom door wide open, the light off. The bed beside mine shows evidence of someone having slept there, but is now vacant. My lips vibrate together as I let out an exaggerated sigh. Seems I've been left behind and now the only thing I can do is hope they come back for me.

Voices from outside draw me to the window and I squint into the blinding light. There's some yelling and I see two figures appear from the room beside ours. They've clearly had a rough night, based on the edginess in their voices. They swing their door shut so hard it causes ours to rattle. I watch them pass the window, arguing until they're out of sight, and then I drop the curtain and turn to face the empty room. Might as well do something with myself.

I know I must smell like river and stale breath, so I opt for a shower. I've never been more grateful for the little bottles of shampoo and pre-packaged toothpaste and toothbrush. By the time I'm finished freshening up, I feel like a completely new person. Snatching the hairdryer off the wall, I get to work fluffing my normally limp locks.

With my head upside down, I dry some volume into my hair as I sing at the top of my lungs. Though, I learn quickly that using a hairdryer as a microphone is a very bad idea. Switching the device off, I pat some cold water across my seared lips and then stand up straight, only to find Seth leaning against the door frame watching me, brows quirked despite the grin tilting up his lips.

Swiveling around, I clutch my chest.

"You freaked me out!" I gasp, laughing.

He smiles. "At least I wasn't in your pants this time," he responds, pushing himself off the doorframe and pointing his thumb over his shoulder. "I got coffee."

"Oh." I'm delighted by his generosity.

I follow him out into the bedroom, taking a seat at the small dining table near the window. He hands me a coffee cup and then drops down onto the couch to enjoy the rich brew. I watch him for several seconds, the heat from my drink seeping into my skin.

"You okay?" he asks, sensing my hesitancy.

"Yeah." I nod, flipping over the tab on my coffee lid so I can sample the drink. It looks creamy... more like milk than coffee.

"I got you a latte," he explains, worry dancing in his eyes as he presses his lips together. "Sorry, I wasn't sure what you liked. There's sugar and creamer in that bag on the table though."

"That was sweet," I tell him, not meeting his gaze. Instead, I busy myself with tracing the letters written across my cup.

"Not a fan?"

My shoulders relax at the warmth in his question. There's no bitterness or judgment. Normally, I get some kind of annoying lecture about 'how on earth could you possibly not love coffee?' But instead, Seth simply nods his head at the table and shrugs.

"Just set it there," he says, taking a sip of his drink. "I'll finish it later."

I watch him, the ease in which he sits enjoying his morning coffee—it's comforting. He doesn't seem the least bit concerned about getting the day started. His demeanor helps me relax and I find myself settling back into my seat.

"So," I begin, "where's Jamison?"

Seth's eyes meet mine and he swallows quickly around a smile. "He took a cab back to campus."

"Oh," I mutter, lifting a single eyebrow. "Was he that eager to escape me or did he have classes he couldn't bear to miss?"

Seth laughs, shaking his head. "Neither. He, uh..." he ponders his next words carefully. "He didn't think he'd be able to tolerate the hike back to his car."

Apparently, he thinks that's explanation enough because he doesn't elaborate. Sitting up, I lean my elbows on the table, curious.

"Really?" I ask, doubtful.

Seth shifts in his seat, fighting a smile as he scratches his jaw. He takes a drink, his eyes avoiding mine as he casually stands and walks toward me. Placing his empty cup on the table, he grabs mine, takes a sip, and then cringes.

"I get why you don't like it," he says, indicating the drink in his hand by wiggling it a few times and then setting it back down.

With a quick smile, he's dismissing himself to the bathroom and I'm left alone staring at the closed door that separates us. I've heard that coffee works as some kind of laxative and I wonder if he's planning to be on the toilet for a while but then I hear the shower turn on.

Once again, I realize he's found a way to avoid conversation with me.

I shrink into my seat, my stomach growling in hunger. If only that coffee had been a breakfast burrito. Standing, I make my way toward my bed when I spot Seth's phone laying half crammed into the space between seat cushions on the couch. Plucking it from hiding, I press the bottom to wake it up and notice a few texts displayed on the screen. The first is from Jamison and I Iet my eyes scan over it.

Dude, I can't move!

Such a pain in the butt.

Mind grabbing some Ca

The rest of the text is cut off but I quickly dismiss the idea of trying to decipher its meaning when I notice who the next message is from.

Tomorrow?

That's all it says. And it's not a big deal at all, except that it happens to be from Cassandra. When did the two of them start hanging out? I thought he had no interest in her.

I don't realize I'm standing there staring at his phone until I hear the bathroom door creak open. Throwing the phone and flinging myself onto my bed might've been my best move out of this scenario, but there's no time. Even if I did have time to hide my snooping, I'm not sure I'd have the motivation.

Dropping my hand to my side, his phone still firmly in my grasp, I glance up to find Seth watching me. He's done nothing to imply he's interested in me even in the slightest, but for some reason, I just can't let it go. It's as if my heart has been superglued to him and the only way to remove it would be to violently rip it away. Either way, it's going to be painful, but I'm coming to the realization that maybe it's time I give up the possibility... completely.

"Whoopsie," I mutter, grinning sheepishly as I toss the phone in his direction and watch as he catches it with ease. "I was just checking the time and happened to see the messages."

Seth doesn't respond as he turns his attention to the gadget in his hands and scans each text. I watch as sympathetic eyes lift to meet mine, something like regret making his brows pull together. Then he pockets his phone, grabs his towel from where it's draped around his neck, and quickly massages the moisture from his dark hair. Walking toward me, he flings the towel over the back of a chair and picks up a set of keys from the table.

"Ready to go?" he asks, opening the door and waiting for me to exit first.

We walk to the main lobby and I stare out the window while he checks out. When he returns, his face is lit up with a boyish grin. I pucker my lips, wary of the sudden switch in his mood.

Stopping beside me, his hand slides to the small of my back and he smiles down at me.

"So, how hungry are you?" he asks, not pausing for a response. "Because I believe I still owe you a meal."

I now know what had caused the uplift in his attitude. Not that he was moody before. He just seemed a little put-off by the fact that I'd invaded his privacy. Honestly, I can't blame him. But food... that can make anyone feel better.

"Right." I nod, my lips stretching to mimic the grin on his face.

His hand burns against my lower back and he guides me out of the building. The moment we're in the open air, he drops his hold on me and I allow myself a breath. I'd joked about having some kind of power over him last night, but clearly, he's the one possessing me. I hate it.

Shaking away the reminder of his touch, I take a step away from him, needing the distance. We cross the busy street and head toward a small family diner. I can smell the grease before I even step into the restaurant and I know I'm right where my stomach wants me to be.

We take a seat across from each other near a window booth and glance at our menus as the waitress asks for our drink order.

"No lattes for her," Seth tells the woman, almost as if he's reminding himself of this little fact, and then turns his focus to me. "Do you prefer black? Or mocha, maybe?"

"Oh." Okay, I suppose he hadn't understood that my distaste for the drink he bought me earlier was due to coffee and not the type of coffee. "Actually, I might just take a water for now. Or, no... maybe a lemonade."

After we order we sit in silence as we watch the cars outside. Our drinks arrive before I decide to break the silence.

"So," I begin, clasping my hands together and leveling my gaze at Seth. Yes, this next question might dampen his mood, but I really can't hold it in any longer.

"So?"

I smile at him and then ask, "What's a pain in Jamison's butt?"

I expect to see a shadow of annoyance descend across Seth's face. I expect him to turn the conversation around and start interrogating me for sticking my nose where it didn't belong. I expect him to spit out a 'that's none of your business.' What I don't expect him to do is spew his black, hot coffee out across the table as he bursts into the most genuine, uncontrollable laughter I've ever heard from his mouth.

"I—" He tries to speak, but can only continue laughing as he shakes his head. "I'm sorry," he apologizes and I find myself laughing along with him when I hear him snort. This just makes him crack up more and though I'm laughing with him, I'm also completely in shock. This is the most unrestrained I've ever seen him. And I hate it because of what it's doing to me.

He lets out a slow, steadying breath as he works to regain his composure, and I chuckle at his struggle.

"I'm really sorry," he says, throwing a napkin in my direction, humor still pulling at his lips. I watch him wipe up the coffee from the table as I sit frozen in place.

Once cleaned up, he takes another deep breath and focuses his attention on me.

"You, uh. You've got coffee..." He points to his own face, indicating that he must have splattered me when he'd erupted a moment earlier. I didn't feel a thing; that's how bad I have it for him.

"Oh." I wipe at my face quickly, unfazed by the fact that he'd quite literally just spit all over me.

"That was—" He shakes his head as he rubs at his jaw, an attempt to rub away the smile that wants to break through again. "I really would love to tell you all about Jamison's predicament, but it's really not my place."

"Please," I nearly beg, learning forward.

"I can't." He takes a sip of coffee, licking his lips as he sets it down. "If you want to know, ask him yourself."

"Kill-joy," I mutter, folding my arms. "Is it about me? I know he doesn't like me much. Does he think I'm a pain in the butt?"

"No."

"Is it something personal? Or embarrassing?" I ask, unable to come up with any other idea as to why he won't tell me.

"You could definitely say that." The subtle smile hints at his amusement, but he doesn't break.

"Oh come on, hasn't Jamison ever done something to embarrass you?" I ask. "Now's your chance for payback."

He quirks a brow, eyes analyzing me with contemplation. I get the sense he's almost disappointed by my suggestion.

"Look," he sighs, voice soft, "I'm not twelve, okay. I have no interest in finding amusement at the expense of someone else's embarrassment."

I watch him for a moment, my head tilted as I absorb this new nugget of information about Seth. While I'm partially ashamed that he's indirectly grouped me in with the 'twelve-year-olds', I'm more awed by his integrity.

"You're a really decent guy," I conclude aloud. "Most people would jump at the chance to embarrass a friend—in a funny kind of way, of course, not in a way that'd humiliate them." I pause. "Does that mean, whatever happened to Jamison is beyond embarrassing?"

There's a pause as Seth places his coffee mug back down on the table.

"Naw." He shakes his head but doesn't say anything further.

I'm unsure if he tried to hide the change in energy—and failed—or if he wanted me to be aware of it. Either way, I can feel it. It's as if he turned stony right before my eyes.

"You okay?" It's my turn to ask the question this time, and Seth's shoulders instantly drop, his eyes flying up to meet mine.

"Yeah, of course." He looks at me confused. "Why?"

I tilt my head to examine him, and he watches as I let my focus drag across his face and down to his tight shoulders. He doesn't urge me to answer; he just waits.

"You don't like me much, do you?" The question leaves my lips before I think much of it, but for once I'm not irritated by my brain's spontaneity.

"What?" He leans back in his seat, hurt flashing across his features for a brief moment. "That's not true at all. Why would you say that?"

I shrug, swiping a few stray grains of salt onto the floor. "Because," I respond, "you're always so guarded with me. When Jamison jokes about me being some kind of 'Seth-fan' you genuinely look disgusted. Just the idea repels you."

"No," he assures. "I think you're great."

I lift one brow, unconvinced.

"It was his use of the term 'Seth-fan' that bothered me," he explains, "not you."

I can sense his eyes traveling over my features, searching for any sign that I believe what he's telling me.

"So," I start to say, pulling my scattered thoughts together, "you're opposed to the idea of any girl liking you? Are you—?"

"No." He quickly cuts me off. "I'm just—" He sighs frustrated. "I have a hard time letting new people into my life. Particularly girls."

My expression softens, appreciating this very rare moment of vulnerability.

"Because we're so intimidating and scary?" I tease, my face serious.

He breathes out a small laugh, shaking his head. "The only girls who bother to get my attention are the ones who are desperate or just trying to prove themselves."

"Girls are awful," I drawl, dropping my chin in my palm to feign sympathy.

"Until you," he surprises me by saying.

My head snaps to attention, my shoulders tight as I cling to his words. I'm sure I'm smiling, but I can barely register my own reaction as I wait for him to speak.

"I'm just not used to all this." He ruffles his own hair, seeming to be nervous as he explains his thoughts. "All I know is flirty, insincere girls. And yet, you flirt just to be funny—like you're making fun of the stereotype— you laugh about poop," he pauses, almost shy before flicking his eyes to meet mine and he laughs, "...you kissed me simply to win a role. I don't feel like you're killing yourself just to impress me. It's..." He pauses, soft eyes finding mine and he grins. "It's refreshing, really."

"Um." I clear my throat, my chest concaving as understanding awakens. Maybe he hasn't seen it, but every word coming from his mouth is a straight-up lie—he just doesn't know it. In truth, I do all those things just to cover up my obsession. And now I know, more than ever, that I can never let him know how I really feel.

"It's nice to have another female in the group," he continues on, oblivious to the throbbing in my chest. "I think you and Shonice will get along great."

"Yeah." My voice is raspy and I hurry to guzzle down my lemonade.

I feel flushed and when our food arrives I couldn't be more grateful for the distraction. My heart physically aches and it's making me want to hurl. For the first time, finishing my entire meal is a challenge and I'm relieved when Seth finally pays the bill and we leave.

For once, I find myself eager to get back to my dorm—to Emma—so I can be with someone who's as miserable as I am.

-------

I so wish I'd written this book before Paper Bride so it would feel completely new and exciting. I hope none of you are getting bored with their story. Honestly, I adore Seth. In my mind, he comes off as both confident and a little shy. 

How do you feel about him? I MUST KNOW!!!! :D