"Happy New Year's," Spencer mumbles through the face time screen from her Mexican holiday location. She's laying in bed, holding the phone above her face and I can see Grayson's bare arm snaked around her shoulder.

"How much did you have to drink last night?" I laugh at her disheveled state.

She'd been reluctant to accept the Lahey's vacation invitation because she felt guilty for abandoning me during the holiday season. But both me and surprisingly her mother insisted that she got away for a little while.

The drama with her father and caused her copious amounts of stress and from what I know, he's still in Archwood. Spencer had stuck firm to her word and refused to have a sit down with him. She felt that he couldn't possibly be worth a minute of her time but I know that deep down, she's a little bit curious. Her loyalty remains with her mother though and I know that's the real reason she's keeping her distance.

"I dunno?" She plays with a piece of hair between her fingers with a thoughtful but droopy expression. "Like a lot. A lot a lot. What'd you do last night?"

"Nathan and I had a few beers together and watched the ball drop on television."

That had been hard. I sat there thinking about the getaway Drayton and I took to California, where he'd promised to take me to New York for New Years. I'd dismissed it at the time but a part of me couldn't help but fantasise over the prospect as I watched it on the television.

"Dude, I wish you'd come with us. It was sooooo fun. Maybe Dray wouldn't have been such a grouch if you'd been here."

I attempt to hide the peaked interest when she brings him up, feigning disinterest. It doesn't work though because Spencer giggles and grins with a knowing smirk.

"I think he misses you."

"I think you're delusional."

"Back to this are we?"

"I have to go!" I smile and wave. "I'll see you at school on Friday."

The last thing I see when I press the end button is her pouty face. Moving on from someone is hard. It's ten times harder when your best friend is dating his best friend and I have a constant feed into his life every five minutes.

I've heard it all from Spencer over the last few months. 'Emily ain't shit, steal that boy back pronto.' 'Go get your man. Fuck that bitch.' But I honestly don't see the use at this point. In August I'll be moving to California and I can put this entire year behind me.

Or at least I can attempt to put it behind me.

• • •

Because football season is over and games are no longer on Friday evenings, I'd put in for the late-night shift at the diner. Spencer tried to convince me that I'd regret it when the weather warms back up and there are parties every other weekend but I sincerely doubt that I'll attend another high school party, ever again.

"Dallas!" Coach stops me as I dash towards my car after school. The snowfall has been heavy today and my old winter boots aren't doing a whole lot to prevent the ice-cold water seeping in. "I've got an emergency staff meeting about one of these little delinquents I teach" - he rolls his eyes - "can you please take this and drop it on my desk. I'll owe ya!"

He hands me a stack of test papers with a broad smile.

"Test papers?" I stare at him as I juggle the stack in my hands. "I don't think students are supposed to handle these?"

"Don't tell anyone this," he leans in and exaggerates a whisper, "you're the only student at this school with a brain between your ears and I trust you, profoundly. So do me this solid. Cheers."

He pats me on the shoulder and treks through the snow with a crunch beneath his feet. It's a flattering notion that I don't tick him off nearly as much as the other students do but the favouritism is a little untimely considering it's freezing and I need to get to work.

I shrug and quickly jostle towards the gym where the coach's office is, wiping my boots on the mat before I cross the hardwood court floor. I can hear a few noisy guys in the locker rooms, hollering and whipping each other with towels. Football season might be over but the workouts and drills continue all year long.

When I'm about to grip the door handle to the office, I pause because through the little glass window and a crack in the blind, I can see Emily... straddling the assistant coach, Lincoln. Their mouths are one hundred percent all over each other.

A sharp intake of air fills my lungs but I can't look away. I can't believe what I'm seeing and I have to give myself a major pep talk so that I don't act before I think.

Lincoln isn't old but he isn't a teen. I think he must be in his mid-twenties. It doesn't really matter because what they're doing is illegal, not to mention she's cheating on Drayton, again!

Think, think. What the fuck should I do.

I've seen far too many movies of girls who don't get a snapshot of the incriminating evidence in front of them and ultimately their story is always shot to hell because there's no proof to back it up. So I do my best to steady my shaking hands and take a few pictures.

Then just for a little wind up, I put the papers on the floor outside the office door so that when they open it, they'll wonder if anyone saw them and just maybe they'll have a horrible weekend trying to guess who it was.

As I walk back to the car I can feel the phone in my back pocket, burning a hole with all its potential. I'm so busy thinking about when and how I'm supposed to tell Drayton - because he deserves to know and I wouldn't mind being the one to blow this whistle - that I almost don't notice Nathan leaning against the car, clad in a big puffer jacket and thick gloves.

"I'm gonna drop you off at work tonight!" He smiles as I hand him the keys, too busy mulling over the scandal that I just unintentionally dove headfirst into.

"I need to borrow the car," he continues once we're both putting on our seat belts. "Hello! Earth to Dallas."

I snap back to reality when he waves his hand in front of my face, shouting at a decibel that's kicked him back on the masculinity scale.

"Oh yeah sorry." I shake my head and shift in the seat as we slowly drive through the icy streets. "Just make sure you pick me up. I finish at eleven. So. Do. Not. Be. Late."

He swipes the finger that I'm pointing at him and rolls his eyes. "I won't be. Relax."

"Serious Nathan," I warn him as we pull into the diner car park. The wheels skid on the dip in the driveway so he gives it a little more gas. "I don't want to turn into a human ice cube waiting for you. So be here before eleven."

"Yes Dallas. Alright. God," he chortles. I slap him in the arm and then climb out of the car, into the cold winter air. I miss summer so much.

My shift ends up running just over eleven. There's a fair bit of cleaning up to do due to a large number of rowdy teenagers choosing this as their Friday night hang out. The fact that I'm calling them rowdy is an indication of how old and pathetic I am.

I'd have expected that since I went overtime, Nathan would be waiting for me in the car park. But when I lock up, being the last one to leave, there's not a car in sight. My teeth chatter so violently that I'm worried they're going to shatter.

Waiting idly in the freezing cold would be a stupid mistake so I pull out my phone as I begin the harsh walk towards home and send Nathan a very terrifying, life-threatening text message. And then I see a response from Spencer to the earlier text I sent her, letting her know that I had major gossip that even she probably hadn't heard about.

What is it !? Omg tell me now woman.

My fingers move slowly over the touch screen, so stiff with chill that it takes me forever to get a response written down. My joints feel frozen and weak but eventually I manage to press send.

I'll FaceTime you when I'm home. Walking coz Nathan forgot to pick me up 🙄

I slip my phone back into my pocket and pull the winter coat tighter around my body. A white cloud of air billows out with every breath as I trek down the slippery snow-covered footpath towards home.

I am going to kill Nathan.

The traffic flow is fairly mild, a few cars pass every so often but I get a hell of a fright when a jeep that I know all too well slams on its breaks about three meters ahead of me, skidding to a halt, the bright red lights casting a glow that contrasts against the dark night.

The driver's door opens and Dray climbs out with furrowed brows and a harsh scowl. He storms towards me with widespread arms and I'm too stunned by the attitude to actually feel the usual elation.

"What the hell are you doing?" He stops a few inches away staring at me as he clenches his jaw.

"Um-" I twist my body, looking around because I feel as though I'm missing something. "I'm walking home?"

"Why?! Where's your car?" he barks.

"Nathan's using it." I shrug. "He was meant to pick me up but he forgot I think."

"You think?!"

"Dray, settle. God." I give him a bewildered look as he shifts around with agitation.

"Get in the car." He starts marching back towards the jeep but stops when I argue. I just can't help myself.

"Dray I live just up the road. It's fine."

"Do I need to physically put you in my car?" he asks with annoyance, redirecting his gloomy walk.

"Alright, alright!" I hold my hands up in surrender and follow him to the car. It's not the worst thing I suppose. The heaters are blasting out warm air and I instantly feel a lot cosier than I had before.

The tension that radiates from Dray, makes the sixty second trip undeniably uncomfortable. His knuckles turn white from gripping the steering wheel so damn hard.

When we pull up in front of the house, I barely get out of the car before Nathan's swung the front door open and comes flying out of the house in a panic.

"Dallas, I'm so sorry!" He waves the keys in his hand. "I was literally on my way, I just forgot for a sec, I got distracted."

It's safe to assume that he has a date inside. That's literally the only distraction that could possibly keep him from remembering something so simple.

"It's fine Nath-"

"You forgot!" Dray snaps from behind me. I hadn't even realised he'd hopped out of the car but when I twist around to look behind me he's staring at Nathan with disgust, his body rigid. "How the hell do you forget your own fucking sister?!"

"Dray!" I hold my hand up to suggest that he stops. "Calm down. It's not a big deal."

"The hell it isn't," he scoffs with a loud voice. "Don't let your sister walk home in the middle of the night. What the fuck is wrong with you man. Take some responsibility!"

I'm completely floored at the outburst and when I turn around to look at Nathan, he's wearing a similar expression to my utter shock.

"Fucking man up," Drayton snarls as he storms back towards his jeep, hops in and tears off down the road, leaving Nathan and I on the front lawn - well used to be lawn - wondering what in the hell just happened.

"Sis, what is wrong with your friend?" Nathan blinks rapidly as Drayton's tail lights disappear around the corner.

"I have no idea," I mumble before I clap my hands together and hold them up to receive a pass. "Keys please!"

Nathan quickly tosses me the keys as I beeline towards the driver's door of our shared vehicle.

I'm not a huge fan of speeding. I never have been. But I don't hesitate on hitting the gas in order to tail Dray and catch up to him. Of course speeding in the winter is going like 10mph so it's not exactly the fast and furious, but I manage to make good time.

When I swing into his driveway and shut off the car, he's already marching up his front steps, not even turning to face me as I get out and slam the door.

"Stop Dray!" I order with surprising authority. It must register with him because he turns around with his hand on the doorknob and gives me an expectant look. "You need to tell me what the hell that was about!"

"It wasn't about anything." He shrugs, the fury has faded but there's still a distinct hostility in his attitude. "Just go home alright. Leave it alone."

"No!" I stomp up the steps and stand in front of him, refusing to back down. "I deserve an explanation. This isn't the first time you've flipped out at me for walking home alone at night. And if you're going to yell at my brother, then I wanna know why!"

His features soften but a new expression quickly takes over. One that leads me to believe there's a war going on behind his eyes. His brows are furrowed as he assesses my features.

"Dray." I step closer once again and lift my hand to the stubble of his jawline, gently caressing the sharp structure of his face. It's a bold move but he reacts to my touch. As hard as he's trying not too, I can see it in his eyes. "Let me in. Tell me what that was really about. I know there's something you're keeping from me. You can trust me."

He's unresponsive for what seems like minutes. Total silence enveloping both of us but it's not uncomfortable. Silence never has been with us. The biggest concern is that he'll still refuse to open up. He takes a deep breath and removes my hand from his face.

I'm relieved when he doesn't drop it though. He keeps it encased in his own and turns to lead me inside. My heart feels as though it's doing a little happy dance at the prospect of finally getting some answers out of this boy. I'd been willing to let the secrets slide for so long, knowing that everyone has them and his could be for a good reason. But after tonight, I need to know and not just out of casual curiosity, but because I can't stand to think of him being tortured by this burden. Whatever it is, I want him to know that I'm here.

After I've removed my jacket and boots, we sit down on the three-seater couch in his modern living area. It's a beautiful space, aesthetically decorated with decedent art pieces and crisp coats of white paint. The modern features, like the tinted windows and built-in television are remarkable, and there's a faux lick of flames coming from the electric fireplace that cast a low light mood throughout the room. But all of this is an unfocused image in the background because Drayton dominates all else. He outshines everyone and everything in any room he enters. To me at least.

I shuffle towards him as he takes a deep breath and rubs his hands together, almost as if he's amping himself up for the conversation, mustering all of his courage and strength.

"I haven't told anyone this before," he states with his eyes on the ground. "I haven't even really said it out loud."

"I'm here" is all I offer. I don't want to push him but he needs to know that he can tell me anything. He meets my gaze, which I am sure to hold firm and steady, and smiles with sad eyes before he delves into his story.

"I haven't always been an only child," he tells me with a voice so heartbroken that it almost shatters my own. "I had a twin sister. Her name was Abigail. Abby for short. She was - she was my best friend. We did everything together ya know. Dad was always taking us on these football fields and carting us around the country but it was awesome because we always made the most of it."

He smiles at the floor, his memories lifting his lips.

"When we lived in Dallas, we had this group of friends that lived a few houses down from us. We were twelve and our friend was turning thirteen so he was having a big party, minus alcohol ya know. It was games like air hockey and pool. That sort of thing, a bunch of kids were invited so we all went together. Anyway, I got pretty tired around eleven. We lived down the street so we walked back and forth all the time. It took us about thirty seconds to get home. So I told Abby I was heading home and that I'd come back and get her when she was ready. She just had to text me."

His head falls, hanging low as a sob racks through his body. Watching him in so much pain is beyond unbearable. I've seen him open up to me, I've seen him express emotion, but nothing like this.

"The next morning I woke up and realised I'd slept through a bunch of calls and texts. The last one said that she thought someone was following her."

He takes a moment to steady his voice and wipes his face with the back of his hand. Sniffing before he exhales loudly, trying to gain composure. I don't need him to finish the story, I think I know where it's headed, but I don't stop him when he continues.

"They found her body two days later, in a ditch about thirty miles from home. Naked, beaten and assaulted. They caught the guy. He was just some sick pervert that happened to stumble across her. There was no association. My Dad retired from the NFL and we moved here a few months later, in hopes of a fresh start."

I'm certain that their story would have been covered in the news but back then, I didn't pay attention to media outlets or news stories.

"Drayton, I'm so sor-"

"Don't!" He sits up straight and turns to me with a firm expression, his eyes rimmed red. "Do not tell me you're sorry. What happened to her is my fault."

"No it isn't!" I argue, picking his hand up and lacing our fingers together. "Drayton, it isn't your fault!"

"I should have walked with her. It's my fault."

"Stop! You were just a child," I tell him with a firm voice. "What about your parents. They should have been picking you up and dropping you off themselves. You can't shoulder that kind of blame!"

"My parents left a sitter with us. She slept more than she sat though," he growls with disapproval. "They were in Colombia for a game."

"Dray, please, you can't carry around guilt for something that wasn't your fault." I squeeze his hand and don't take my eyes off his face. "It'll make you sick. You didn't do anything wrong."

"Sure feels like it."

A thought occurs to me and I lift the sleeve of his t-shirt to reveal his shoulder where the little boy and girl are walking into the sunset. "This is about her isn't it?" I ask, grazing my fingertips along the surface of his skin, a field of goosebumps form in my wake.

"Yeah," he mumbles, his eyes focused on the hand caressing his shoulder.

"Drayton, if you don't believe anything I say, believe this. You are not responsible for what happened." I tuck my hand around the length of his jaw and caress his cheek with my thumb. "It was an accident! I understand why you hate seeing me walk home at night now."

His facial muscles quiver as he swallows the lump in his throat, looking tortured by the conversation or a memory. It hurts to see him in so much pain.

"That night you walked away from me in Castle Pines was - it was - shit. I felt like I was reliving a nightmare. Reliving that night and I couldn't let it end the same way. Dallas, I don't like seeing any young girl walking alone" - he swivels his body towards me more - "but especially not you. Promise me that you'll always call me if you need a ride. Even if we're not speaking. Or you hate me. Just call me. Any time, anywhere. I'll come and give you a ride Dallas. Promise me?"

"I promise."

He looks relieved, his shoulders relax and his features smooth at the verbal agreement. I wish I'd known about this sooner. It brings him into a whole new light. I understand him better than I ever have. He's been battling this demon on his own for so long, no one to tell him that he shouldn't feel the guilt that he does. No one to comfort him when the memories get too much.

I remember the secret Emily threatened to spill if I didn't adhere to her rules and it makes me sick to know that she'd use something like this to her advantage. The photo in my back pocket looks as though it'll have a good use after all.

"Thank you," he mumbles, his tortured eyes gazing at me.

"For what?"

"For listening. For understanding and not making me feel worse."

"Dray, I would never. I meant what I said. You aren't to blame and you don't deserve to carry around that sort of guilt."

Our eyes stay locked on one another and I can see the thankfulness in his stare. "I've missed you," he murmurs, watching my mouth.

"I've missed you too."

My heart races when I feel his hot breath fanning my face. A current of electricity surges between our close proximity, becoming stronger as we move closer together. I've always been impossibly attracted to Dray, but now that I know him on a deeper level, a level that opens a wider understanding and a more intimate connection displayed by trust, I'm certain that I love him.

He closes the distance between us and our mouths meet, erupting so much need from within me that I can't move fast enough to wrap my arms around his neck. I can't get him close enough as I throw my leg over his lap and straddle him as he leans back into the couch. I can't get enough.

His hands slide up my thighs as we kiss with a passion so strong that I can feel my head spinning. It's intoxicating. His touch, his mouth and his hands as they come around the back of my thighs and cup my ass.

After months of barely speaking, it feels as though there's a build-up of tension that needs to be released and to be honest, that's all I want. Nothing else matters at this moment. No consequences, no scummy girlfriends or inevitable relocations to California. All that matters is him and I.

His hands travel up the length of my spine, tangling in the hair on the back of my head as he pulls it back and exposes my throat, working his way down my jaw and neck as I grind my hips, pushing against the swelling length beneath me. He groans, a loud incarnate groan that only adds fuel to the burning fire that's flaming all around us.

"Do you wanna go upstairs?" I ask with a husky voice. I know that he's technically still with Emily. But it's safe to assume that will be over when I show him the photos I have. I'm sick of denying him. We want each other, it's more than obvious.

He leans back, staring up at me with awe and lust. Without giving a verbal answer he cups my ass and jumps to his feet, swinging my legs around his waist. "Fuck yes I do," he growls, biting and lapping at my neck and décolletage. My hands travel the dips and bulges of his incredible arms that are holding me up effortlessly as he all but sprints up the stairs.

I've always imagined he has good stamina. I suppose I'm about to find out.