I don't know what I expected kissing Logan would feel like. There were moments when we'd come close to it, like that morning on the beach or New Year's Eve. But somehow, none of those would have added up right. Not when everything fell together so perfectly that night on the jetty.

Kissing Logan felt hot. Hot, because my whole body was on some kind of fire, an internal fire that burnt bright and spread throughout my limbs like a flower blossoming in the middle of spring. I don't know if that was because this was the first proper kiss I'd had since I was thirteen or the fact that he'd seemed to be so close to me that he was everywhere.

Not that it was a very long lasting kiss. Twenty long seconds perhaps, that somehow seemed to last both a thousand years and a millisecond at once. We looked at each other. A long look that could have meant various things, but I'll translate it: Wow. Did we seriously kiss? Do we do it again? Do we say goodbye? What the hell do we do now?

If you had told me a month ago that I would have kissed Logan Mathews I would have laughed at you, then maybe asked if you were taking any form of heavy drugs. So I walked home confused. I was a little restless, a little shaken up and a little bit giddy with euphoria.

After the kiss he laughed nervously, which made me laugh nervously. Then the laughter turned a little bit into genuine laughter, perhaps brought on by hysteria. Good hysteria.

"Do you want me to walk you home?" He asked me.

I thought about it, and a part of me definitely wanted him to. But then I was a little worried that in the light hearted mood we'd kiss again, or even worse. I needed a clear head. "I think I'll be okay. I need time to myself."

He nodded in understanding. "Cool. Maybe see you at the beach then."

So we walked back to the base of the jetty and split not much further, parting with a hug. I think we both needed time to ourselves, if this kiss was confusing for me it probably had the same effect on him.

I didn't bother to walk straight home, instead I stopped at Maisie's and knocked on her floral pattern encrusted door. Joy answered and instructed me that Maisie was in her room. I made my way up the stairs like a zombie.

She must have been expecting me because there was snacks on her bed and a romantic comedy playing. Friends with Benefits, I think.

"Val!" She said excitedly, bouncing up to hug me around the neck, almost swinging from me with excitement. "Tell me all about it!"

I sat down on the bed, Zombie Val was struggling to understand her own emotions, let alone project them.

"Want some tea?"

I nodded. Warm liquid might help. She darted down the stairs to make the tea and I laid on her bed, staring up at her intricately decorated ceiling. She had hung prints of artistic designs across the roof, stuck with double sided tape. It made for a calming vision to stare at when I was losing my mind.

Maisie was in the doorway with two mugs in her hands when I blurted, "He kissed me."

Jeez, you would think it was bloody Christmas with the way her face lit up. "Really?"

"Really."

"And?!"

"I kissed back. I think."

"Did you like it?"

"I think so."

I told her everything. And she seemed to approve of everything. I think I was in that euphoric, almost high stage after something huge happened, when you can't quite keep track of time properly anymore. I went home that night and woke late in the morning, still retaining my zombie like composure.

I was considering heading down to the beach, almost excited yet ridiculously nervous at the thought of catching Logan down there, when Alastair rang.

"So you know how I said in Port Lewis that you should meet my parents one time?" He said as soon as I picked up.

"Yeah." I recalled it. "What are you getting at?"

"Well I need you to meet them. I need you to have dinner with us, actually."

"Why on Earth do I need to have dinner with you and your parents?"

"Because Lottie's busy and I can't face my disgusted parents alone," he said bluntly. "Please."

"Why should I?" I dared. "It's not like you've been very helpful lately."

"I know and I'm bloody sorry. I really am. But I need you."

Somehow, the use of the word 'need' made it seem so much more unrealistic for me to turn him down. Even if his parents were as terrifying as he made them seem. "Maybe."

"Seriously? Come on, Val."

His pleading only made me believe he really might need me. I wasn't going to sound enthusiastic about it, though. "Yeah I'll come for dinner."

"Promise?"

"Promise." Always another promise.

"Great, because I don't want you backing out when it gets tough."

"How could dinner get tough?"

"Valerie, my dear, you're about to meet the Sullivan seniors. You'll know exactly how a dinner can be tough."

"I can't wait," I said sarcastically.

As soon as I hung up the phone I realised that maybe I should have given the dinner more thought. It was only yesterday that I'd finally dated Logan, was it inappropriate to be going to dinner at Alastair's house? Probably. But Alastair, as I'd acknowledged to myself, was my friend. And Logan and I weren't committed, especially enough to be worried about who each other's friends were and what we did with them.

Alastair came to my house shortly after the call. He'd insisted on making sure I was 'appropriate for the occasion', no matter how much I'd tried to convince him that I was capable of getting ready. He'd said smart, so I assumed my nice blouse and dark wash jeans would have been satisfactory. Apparently not.

"Have you got any... dresses?"

My mouth was hung in a gaping look as a very smartly dressed Alastair leaned against the door frame of my bedroom, button-up shirt, tie and all. Dad had left just before he'd pulled up, so he'd at least avoided any awkward confrontations there. No, instead I was having my wardrobe criticised by a British guy who insisted on following me to my bedroom. At least all of my underwear were put away this time.

"Of course I own a dress," I cringed. If wearing a dress was going to be appropriate for tonight, maybe I really had underestimated the formality of the dinner.

I pulled out three hangers. The three dresses I owned. One I'd bought for my school formal, it was a chiffon cream gown with golden embroidery, and I was relieved when Alastair shook his head. At least this event wasn't that over the top.

The second was an aquamarine sun dress with a lacy hem, I had brought it for long days on the beach and wasn't surprised when Alastair gave me a displeased look. Too casual.

The third was navy, I'd worn it to my Auntie's wedding a few years ago when my Dad had forced me to go. A gawky fashion-obsessed Maisie had insisted back then that it was 'smart chic' and examining it again now made me realise it probably was more like what Alastair was expecting. My thoughts were confirmed with a nod.

"I'll wait in the car," he said when I dived back into my stuffed little wardrobe for a pair of matching shoes. I heard his footsteps venture back up the hall and allowed myself to freak out for a second. When I had agreed I certainly didn't believe dinner would be this formal.

With my hair pinned loosely away from my face and my feet clad in wedges with a small heel, I felt incredibly dressed up for little old Sandy Cove. The dress still fit though, which was reassuring. I even dabbed some make-up on my face, it wasn't much but I hoped Alastair would realise I was putting a lot of effort into tonight.

"You seriously owe me." I scowled as I let myself into his air-conditioned car, I was already feeling hot and flustered. My feet were already aching from the shoes.

"Hey, you signed up for this. Promised in fact."

He pulled off of the curb and my thoughts started spiralling again. Not about the dinner, my gut was already twisted up enough about that, but about Logan. There was a movie screen behind my eyes which insisted on replaying that moment on the jetty on repeat. It made my heart a little giddy, and my mind begin to question whether it was just a dream. I reminded myself to try and speak to Alastair about it at some point, maybe that would help make it even more real. Maisie could only offer so much advice.

It wasn't long before we were on his street. It was a little annoyed that he lived so close by because I really believed I could calm my nerves on the drive. Maybe alcohol would help.

"Can I have an alcoholic drink? Like, really strong?"

"There'll be wine," he said. I shook my head in disgust. "Okay, I know you're already really proper," he smirked. "But just reminding you that my parents hate swearing, lack of manners, lack of education and talking about things that they deem as low class."

"Things that are low class?"

"You'll see what I mean. Just try to let them guide conversation, you'll be fine. They might even like you." He didn't sound confident.

I noticed two other cars in the huge driveway. My nerves accelerated a little.

"Hey," Alastair said. He was looking at me with concern. "It will be fine, and I don't care if you throw a drink in either of their faces. I'll even do it for you."

His words, although I was sure were meant to be reassuring, only worried me further. I mean, if something's so bad that we have to resort to throwing around drinks, this dinner was bound to go badly. Alastair's hand found mine across the gear stick and he gave it a little squeeze. I gave a tight smile, letting him know I was ready.

The Sullivan house - no, mansion - was as cold as ever, save for the small chatter coming from the kitchen. Alastair gave my hand one more squeeze before stepping in front of me to lead me to them, and for the first time I realised that maybe he was the one who was the most nervous between us. I could tell by the straightness of his shoulders and the quickness of his breath.

"Mother, father," he nodded as we stepped into the dining area. His demeanor seemed to change to someone much more restricted than before.

The Sullivan's were regal looking. His mother was tall with high cheekbones and hair pulled back tightly into an ash blonde bun. Similar to me, she was wearing a cap sleeved dress and heels. His father was a little shorter and had piercing jade eyes identical to Alastair and Lottie's. He carried the same cool air as the woman beside him, but his appearance, a buttoned shirt and cream trousers, seemed a little more approachable.

"Alastair." Her accent mirrored Alastair's. His mother gave him a tight smile, but her eyes were all over me, dusting over my legs, my torso and my fingers which were twisted in knots in front of me. "Are you going to introduce us to your friend?"

Alastair raised his eyebrows at me, out of his parent's view. "This is Valerie O'Conner. I met her on the beach and she's been showing me around. She's friends with Lottie too. Valerie, these are my parents, Therese and Christopher."

Therese and Christopher gave smiles which were warmer than I expected. Each shook my hand briskly, like they shook hands with people every day.

"Let's get dinner served, shall we?"

I sat their gawking, my back supported by the tall dining chair I was sitting in. There was actually a caterer, dressed in black and white and placing large plates of roasted beef and vegetables, exotic salads and seafood platters on the polished wooden table. Meanwhile, the Sullivan's sat there chatting lightly like it was something they did every evening.

"What kind of wine would you like, ma'am?" a waiter asked.

Uh, I don't even know what types of wines there are! I thought, desperately trying to catch Alastair's attention. He sat beside me, and thankfully picked up on my incompetence.

"I think she'll have a red wine, as would I, perhaps the Tanunda Chateau please?" he asked politely.

"Certainly."

"It's from a really nice wine region in South Australia," Alastair explained casually as his parents asked a caterer pointed questions. "thought we'd try something a little more local, considering we're hosting a local."

I didn't process his words. Instead I said under my breath, "You seriously hire waiters in your own home?"

"Yeah," Alastair said darkly and quietly. "Hardly a home cooked meal, right?"

When the food was presented, Therese actually clinked her fork to her glass of champagne to get our attention, as if we were in a five star restaurant full of people. This signalled us to load our plates, and I daintily tried to handle what I believed to be a crystal pair of tongs. There were also multiple sets of knives and forks, and I watched Alastair carefully as a guide to which ones to use.

"So, Valerie," Christopher Sullivan said. "Alastair mentioned you work at the ice-cream parlour in town."

I nodded, my cheeks flushing from the attention. It was as if I was stepping across a torrential river, trying to stick to the tiny, slippery stones. One wrong step and I would be drowned.

"How long have you been working there?" Therese asked.

"I've been working there each summer for three years now," I explained.

"We have been trying to encourage Alastair to get a job while we are staying. But to no luck, obviously."

"He would much rather laze around, chatting up girls instead," Christopher chuckled. Oh, God.

"I've hardly had the best example, father," Alastair said nonchalantly, like it was perfectly normal to throw taunts across the dinner table.

"Now now, boys." Therese gave an elegant laugh. "We have a guest."

"Of course." Christopher narrowed his eyes at Alastair. "Now, Valerie. What do your parents do for a living?"

It was straight from the book of How to Make Your Lower Classed Guests Feel Uncomfortable 101. "My father runs a fishing boat."

"Oh," Therese said with delight. "Perhaps he caught the fish on our plate tonight."

I flushed red. Of course we would be the family that provides these common goods to you royalty.

"What about your mother?" Therese asked when I didn't respond. The way she said it was as if it was a normal conversation and she was unaware of my discomfort. But Alastair definitely wasn't. I felt his hand rest on my knee beneath the table. I sipped my wine.

"My mother works as a surgeon," I lied. My mother was a laundry lady, but she wouldn't know that. "She works in Sydney. Flies back and forth to see Dad."

Alastair raised his eyebrows, completely aware I was making it up. But he didn't say anything.

"Oh," Therese sounded surprised. "That's very impressive."

We eat for a few moments before Christopher picked up the conversation again. "It is a shame Charlotte can't join us. Where did you say she was tonight, Alastair?"

"She's eating with friends," Alastair explained. I wondered which friends he meant. Zoe maybe?

"Ah, I see. She must have finished that assignment then. University is going very well for her, isn't it, Therese?"

"Oh, yes." I tried to calculate who they were trying to unnerve. My bet was Alastair this time. "You just graduated last year, didn't you, Valerie? University this year then, I suppose?"

"Yes," I said, thankful I didn't have to lie this time. "I plan to study commerce in Perth."

"Ah, excellent," she said. She gave me a brilliant smile. "I assume you won't be expelled like my son."

I felt Alastair stiffen. I'd thought his parents would try and hide this piece of information, but instead they were bringing it out and flaunting it. Where they trying to scare me away for some reason? "I assume so."

"Perhaps we should enrol Alastair there," she mused. "He may even conform to the behaviour of someone less spoiled. But, of course the university he and Lottie were attending was the most prestigious. I'm confident he'll regain his place."

I squirmed awkwardly. I couldn't tell whether to stick up for Alastair or not. I felt like sticking up for him would result in things going so much worse.

"At least he is taking an interest in sensible girls." Christopher shook his fork in my direction. "Much better than the tarts back in Leeds."

Although it was clearly another dig at Alastair, this made me kind of curious. Alastair never spoke about his love life back home. It also made me wish he would clarify that we were indeed just friends, but I knew it would probably be futile.

Therese screwed up her nose, either from his crude language or the girls he was referring too. "Definitely."

"Like you two showed any interest in my life back at home," Alastair said in a cheerful tone. It wasn't quite sarcasm, or light teasing. More like a plastered mask for the hostility beneath the words.

"Clearly," his father snorted.

"So you two run hotels?" I blurted. It was my desperate attempt to change the topic. "Do you think you'll ever open one in Sandy Cove?"

Thankfully, it was a good topic change. It allowed the Sullivan seniors to boast about their prosperous business and the digs at Alastair became fewer. It was clear, though, that what Alastair had said before really was true. They were disgusted in him, and they made a huge deal out of it. His punishment wasn't moving away, or being kicked out of university, it was their everlasting yet invisible disdain.

"I should probably get Valerie home," Alastair said when the caterers began taking our dinner plates.

"Nonsense, we have a guest. We can serve dessert," Therese insisted.

"I'd love to stay," I lied again. "But I have work early tomorrow."

"Let the girl go, Therese," Christopher said.

"I'm sure you'll see her again, mother. If you haven't scared her away permanently," he said with an air of sarcasm.

"Well, if she's like any of your other girls then she won't be back anytime soon."

"We're just friends, mother."

"Of course. Goodbye Valerie."

Therese leaned in and gave me a cold kiss on each cheek. I made sure I kept my smile plastered on my face until we were out of the front door and into Alastair's car.

The drive home was silent. It was thoughtful. I couldn't quite work out just how he could tolerate parents like that. I could kind of see the physical resemblance, and Alastair certainly had the rich-person charisma that his parents had to a degree, but his personality was so different. Somehow I thought that may have come from a lack of parenting on their behalf. I mean, if they had waiters serve and undoubtedly cook a regular family dinner, what kind of warm family were they?

The way they spoke about Alastair also made me question the comments about the girls he was interested in back home. When he'd first confronted me on the beach, was I intended to be another conquest? Another 'tart'? The idea of him with a tarty looking girl made me shudder. Maybe his parents had been exaggerating.

We were parked on the curb outside my house when he spoke.

"Thank you again for this evening. I'm sorry my parents are so horrid," Alastair said. In the darkness, his eyes appeared black as they surveyed my expression.

"It could have been worse. I mean, none of us had to throw our drinks which was a plus."

"Yeah, that's true."

"Is it really like that every night?"

"More or less. It's better when Lottie's there, she diffuses them a bit. They always insist on eating together for family meals, but we're hardly family."

"I'm sorry," I said, my voice small. I wish I could say something more meaningful.

"Its fine, I don't take most of it to heart anymore. Mum shows signs of maternal instinct sometimes and says something nice. It makes it almost worth attending."

I couldn't imagine ever growing up around people so cold. I mean, Dad and I rarely interacted but when we did it was meaningful and enjoyable. When we had issues, we said them straight forwardly and fought through it, we didn't manipulate or make each other feel isolated and lonely.

My thoughts drifted to the way Alastair had been acting lately, with all of his avoidance. They also drifted to Logan. The scene of us kissing played again. Was that ever going to leave my mind? Not that I wanted it to, but it was making it difficult to keep my thoughts where I wanted them to.

"Alastair," I said after the silence continued to grow. "Why have you been acting so weird these last few days?"

"What do you mean?" He asked.

"You know what I mean. When I was at yours with Lottie and you acted annoyed about Logan at mine that night, and then the phone call the other day when I needed your help. And you've been avoiding me talking about Logan at all, I mean in the beginning you were so interested and wanting to help."

He let me keep talking until I ran out of things to say. "I wasn't happy because of the way he'd been acting that night."

"How had he been acting?" I recalled Logan mentioning drinking with the boys, including Alastair. "You were drinking with him, right?"

Alastair nodded. "It was actually fun, until I mentioned going to Port Lewis with you."

"What happened?"

"He got really defensive, like really put off. He was almost possessive over you for going out with me. He blew it up to be some big thing, like we were dating or something. He was super possessive."

I was silent. I could picture it in a way. I mean, Logan always got what he wanted, it was how the world worked. It made sense that he'd be possessive, especially over something he didn't think he could have. It explained why he'd come to my house that night, trying to convince me to date him.

"Valerie?"

"Yeah, sorry." I shook my head. "Just piecing things together. Thank you for telling me."

"I didn't want to talk about it with you because... well, I wasn't sure it was right anymore. You two dating, I mean."

"What do you mean?" I questioned.

"Well, New Year's Eve for starters. As soon as he thought he was missing out on getting with you he was with Zoe. And then the way he was possessive, it was like a kid who wanted a super shiny looking toy. I just didn't want him to take it from the shelf, play with it and then move onto another one."

His worries were logical, and probably very real. I think the only difference was that I'd known Logan since kindergarten, and he barely knew him at all. That didn't stop them from running around my mind, though, chasing each other with pitter-pattering steps along the floor of my brain.

The kiss had been a huge feat, but that didn't mean everything would be okay.

"I understand," I told Alastair when I noticed I hadn't replied in a while. "Just know I can look after myself."

"I know you can." He gave a wry smile, "I would just like to help you avoid having to. I'd like to think we're friends, and friends can have disagreements. So we can just agree to disagree on this one."

"I'm not sure I disagree," I admitted. "I just think it's worth the chance. It was you who taught me that in the first place."

"Well let's hope it's worth it," he said. I gave a half smile and opened my door handle. He took the message. "Night, Valerie."

"Night, Alastair."

"Also, if it's worth mentioning, I think my parents didn't hate you. Mum even wanted you to stay for dessert."

"I assume that's a big thing."

"You bet it."

He drove away in his Mercedes. Just like he'd driven by to pick me up this morning. I kind of felt like an autumn leaf lying on the side of a road, a car driving by blowing me upwards in a wisp before I landed just where I'd started again.

AN: Sorry that this chapter was so long! I really didn't want to split it up...Just letting you know I'll be unable to update for a few days now, but I really hope you liked this chapter. Please vote if you're liking the story so far, and comment any thoughts! As always, I can't wait to keep writing :)