He'd been driving for a while to get to the other side of town but didn't seem to be in a rush. I figured he was driving under the speed limit to let me take in the area, maybe hoping I'd think that place was as rundown as he did.

Everything looked as expected from what I saw coming off the interstate. Sand, wilted trees, ominous birds, and old buildings that hadn't been shut down or abandoned.

After minutes of cruising through the empty streets, we reached a quieter neighborhood on the mountains I saw through my window. There were no cicadas or owls in the distance. Not even the wind blew hard enough to rattle the trees.

"Alright, South Carolina, we're here," Ethan said while shutting off the engine. He turned to me as he tucked the key into his side pocket.

"We're doing those kinds of nicknames, now?" I grinned with my top row of teeth, and he shrugged, pouting his lip. I watched him step out of the car before I did the same, and we shut our doors.

The road wasn't covered in sand, but there was enough to think that cars and wind tracked it across the asphalt, but no one felt like cleaning it. We were also at the end of that road, as evidenced by the yellow and black sign near the entrance sitting on its metal leg.

We were parked in the driveway of a wide house nestled between trees and shrubs, like the others nearby. This one had a sandy orange roof and cream-colored exterior walls like them.

There were four long windows—two on either side of the white door—and a garage on the part of the house that stood out the farthest.

There were three trashcans, but only one was for recycling. The grass was patchy, and the closer we got to the door, the more my nose wrinkled. The yard smelled like pesticides.

Ethan knocked, then sat his hands on his hips, and I crossed mine for warmth. I wore a faint blue summer dress and silver, strapped sandals, thinking it'd be humid outside, but I learned the hard way that Julian was scorching during the day and freezing at night.

A tall and thin guy opened the door in a similar style as Ethan: a polo shirt, jeans, and brown suede sandals.

"You finally made it," he said to Ethan with a large smile that turned my stomach. He looked me over, then stepped aside. "Come on in."

I was convinced the smell hung onto my nose hairs even after we walked past him but tried my best to not make a face. I didn't want to seem disgusted by the house or Ethan's friends.

Stepping through the front door, there was a chiseled wall to our right with an arch-shaped hole in the top half. I glanced through and saw a doorway into the kitchen.

Straight ahead, four women were sitting in the living room. Two were on the suede couch and two were on the pleather one, and they talked while staring at the TV mounted on the wall.

"The bathroom's down the hall, third door on your left," he said while walking around us. "You two make yourselves at home. I'll be in the kitchen pouring the rest of the popcorn."

Ethan and I walked to the living room area, and he went into the kitchen. The four of them were wearing plastic glasses with red and blue film acting as lenses.

Three were brunettes, and one had dirty blonde hair. They wore different kinds of leggings: Pink by Victoria's Secret, jeggings, tribal-patterned, and galaxy print.

We crossed their line of sight and broke off in different directions. Ethan sat in the recliner, and I stood near him, not knowing where to sit.

One of the brunettes removed her glasses in one hand and seemed to scan me from my shoes to my hair with a blank expression.

She had an unreadable face that only made my heart beat faster when she squinted like she was thinking.

"Hey, Ange," she said to get her friend's attention, and I sucked in a breath before I heard the name, thinking she was greeting me. The blonde turned her brown eyes toward her. "You know who she looks like?"

I took a deep breath and pursed my lips. When I was younger, I was made fun of more for my freckles at the time than my nose, but only one of those things went away.

I heard Pinocchio enough times to count on one hand but was only compared to Squidward two or three times.

"Oh, my God," one of the other brunettes said, leaving her mouth open. She removed her glasses and revealed piercing blue eyes.

"No way," the last brown-haired girl joined in, but she didn't remove her 3D glasses. I felt sweat pricking the back of my neck like I was under a spotlight or a microscope.

I looked at Ethan for help, but he was glued to the TV, watching some man run out of a building just before it went up in flames.

The blonde looked me up and down, and her jaw dropped.

"Shut up." She sat up and snatched her glasses off. "You look like Gisele."

"Who?" I furrowed my eyebrows. My body started to tense, like minutes before a car crash.

"Gisele Bündchen," the first girl said. Seeing my expression hadn't changed, she dragged her words as if it were common knowledge and said, "The Devil Wears Prada?"

"Stop." I looked at the blonde, and at that point, she made a face like I was concerning her by lowering her eyebrows. "Like, actually, stop. Are you seriously saying you never watched The Devil Wears Prada?"

"Maybe she doesn't have a TV, Ange." I glanced at the blue-eyed one who spoke matter-factly, and I had to double-take.

"No, I do." I chuckled, and she threw her hand up as she leaned back on the couch.

"Exactly, who doesn't have a TV," the first girl said, and the one who tried to defend me shook her head in disbelief.

"I knew a girl in high school who literally never had one." Ethan gave us his attention when the TV went on commercial.

"That was high school, Amy," the first brunette said to the one wearing her 3D glasses.

"How about, instead of arguing over movies and people she doesn't know, how about you introduce yourselves," he suggested, then lifted one leg onto the other knee.

"We'll circle back to this, Ethan's right." The first girl placed her hand on her chest. "Okay, so, my name's Megan."

She looked to her left, staring at the one with bright blue eyes and the tribal leggings. "I'm Lauren."

The one in galaxy leggings, beside the blonde, tipped her glasses and smiled. "Amy."

"And I'm Angela." She extended her tanned arms to present herself. Unlike the others, her bronze skin looked like it was from either a tanning booth or the sun.

"It's nice to meet all of you. My name's Helen," I said, shifting my eyes from one person to another.

"Helen," Megan mumbled with squinted eyes and a smile. "That's really pretty."

I held my left arm and let my attention drift away from them. I admired the sleek furniture meticulously placed in different parts of the open-floored space.

I looked behind Amy and Angela. Between the kitchen wall and the one with the arch was a medium-sized area with a round, mahogany dining table. It had doilies and handmade chair cushions someone would find in an older person's home.

There was a half-wall behind Megan and Lauren, with a little potted plant and books at the top. I noticed a sliding door beside that wall.

There were large windows behind us, with blanket-sized curtains partially covering them. I glanced long enough to see the forest of trees encompassing the back of the house.

"Do you wanna sit down," Lauren asked, and I jolted my eyes onto her. I lifted my brows at her and pressed my lips together.

"Hm? Oh, um, no. I'm fine." The other guy stepped into the living room area, staring at me. He wasn't smiling but he didn't have a blank expression either. He studied me like he knew me but couldn't place where.

"Ethan." Everyone turned to look at him, standing directly behind Amy. "I have some bottles in the other fridge. I already unlocked the door to the garage, so," he trailed off.

"Oh, yeah, I forgot." He jumped up and adjusted his dark green shirt. His friend stared at me until Ethan was closer to him, then they walked toward the kitchen.

When they stepped into a room and shut the door, I sat on the recliner and leaned forward to whisper, "What's that guy's deal?"

"Who? Tyler," Lauren asked. The others turned to me as well.

"Yeah, the one with the red shirt." I glanced at the kitchen's wall. "He was giving me this look like I'm an alien or something."

"I don't know," Lauren said. "Maybe he thinks you're hot."

Angela chuckled and shook her head. She said, "If that's the case, then you'd better let him know you're seeing Ethan."

"What? He and I aren't dating." Her smile faded, and I noticed Amy tilt her head with raised eyebrows like she didn't believe me. Her 3D glasses were sitting at the edge of her long nose, and from that angle, I saw her hazel brown eyes. "Seriously, we're just friends."

"Really? You're the first girl in a while that he's brought to one of our watch parties." I shrugged and tossed my hands up.

"I'm new to town. I think he was just trying to help me get familiar with the area and meet new people." Megan looked over at Angela and they locked eyes.

"Well, whether you two are a thing or not, it's nice to meet you, and I think you're really pretty, and I would love it if you stuck around," Amy said with her hand on her chest and her eyes dim like she's buzzed.

I looked from one girl to the other with my teeth gnashed and my mouth slightly open. I furrowed my eyebrows the longer I studied them, hoping one would laugh so I'd know they were joking. It never happened.

"You all must not meet — certain people," I said, dragging my words. I didn't want to make them uncomfortable, but I was taken aback by how quickly they latched onto me.

They had the maturity of children or young teenagers, and maybe it was because I was put in a position that required me to grow up, but it was off-putting.

"What do you mean certain people," Megan asked, and I shrugged while pouting my lip.

"I don't know, it's just," I trailed off. They stared at me with different expressions that showed the same feelings: confusion, maybe even offense. "Most people I meet aren't so — friendly."

"Aren't you from the south?" I furrowed my eyebrows at Megan and opened my mouth, ready to ask how she knew, but was only able to say the first word. "Ethan," she said. Angela smirked when we locked eyes. "I'm telling you, girl, he doesn't shut up about you."

He must not meet a lot of girls, I thought, especially ones not from here.

To me, it explained why he was so attached to me and frequently visited my room.

With not much experience in a serious relationship, I brushed it off.

"I'll be right back," Angela said, excusing herself. Megan brought the glasses over her eyes again, and as she tucked the arms over her ears, she leaned back.

I watched her stand and walk away from us. With her back turned and her pin-straight hair swaying at her hips, I saw the Pink by Victoria's Secret name repeatedly printed around the waistband.

She bent the corner, heading down the hall and I turned to the group. They were different than the girls from Greenwich. Their hair was kempt, clothes simple yet more than I could afford at the time, and they had a sense of camaraderie like siblings or cousins.

My eyes found their way to the kitchen. Part of me was curious about him — about all of them — but the other part didn't want to give them any more ideas that there might've been something between me and Ethan.

Obviously, I was attracted to him. He was handsome, witty, and considerate. He was as soft-spoken as me but didn't seem withdrawn like I'd become over the years. Regardless of my feelings, at the time, I was certain he wasn't interested.

Despite my conflicting thoughts, I took a breath to prepare to ask about him.

"What does he say about me?" Megan and I met each other's gaze, then Lauren and Amy. "Ethan, I mean. You said he couldn't stop talking about me."

"Well, he went on and on about how different you are from a lot of people here,"  Megan said with a playful eye-roll, and she flicked her hand. Amy snickered, then turned her focus back to the television.

"In a good way or a bad way?" I alternated my attention from one to the other, willing to accept an answer from either of them. 

"It seemed like a good way," Megan said, but by the way she dragged her words and furrowed her eyebrows, it sounded more like a question. Then, she turned to Lauren. "Right?"

"Yeah, it was just stuff like, she has these stories that'll make your jaw drop when you hear 'em, and the way she tells them is so engaging," Lauren told me, though she kept glancing at Megan.

I blinked back and drew my eyebrows together. "Stories?" Amy slowly peeled her eyes off the screen to look at me, then at Megan. They weren't smiling, but their lighthearted moods seemed to dwindle. I dropped my head and stared at my hands on my lap. I licked my lips, then bit the bottom one. Without looking at them, I asked, "He told you about my entries," but it was more of a statement.

"The guy wouldn't shut up about it," Megan said, and I closed my eyes. "Not that we're complaining. I mean, honestly, the stuff you had to go through was," she paused and I lifted my head to look at her. She took a breath and blew it out, her face sour with sympathy. She mumbled, "Intense."

He'd told them about everything, I assumed. I was content with that assumption, too, because I didn't want to ask what exactly he said. For all I know, he only mentioned the time in the basement, but I couldn't handle knowing.

I bit down on my lip when it started to tremble and I bowed my head to hide it behind my hair.

I knew it'd be in the papers and that anyone who paid for it would know about me, what I'd overcome, and what haunted me, but I thought I'd be in control of the narrative. I told him time and time again not to embellish or glorify what I'd endured over the years. Part of that agreement involved not gossiping about it, because gossips disregard the feelings of the person they talk about.

To them, I was a foreigner with a tragic past. Julian was desolate and boring, but my past gave them something fresh and exciting to talk about behind my back.

When Ethan stepped into the room and I looked at him, my heart dropped into my rumbling stomach. I scrunched my mouth and swallowed, ignoring the feeling of nails dragging down my dry throat.

"What're you in here running your mouth about now, Meg?" She turned at the hip along with her friends and they smiled at him as he approached their couches. I shook my head at him but it was so faint that no one would notice. He asked me, "Is she bothering you," but I didn't answer even when they all glanced at me. Not noticing my expression, they looked at each other and he said, "I swear she can have a whole conversation with herself."

"Ha-ha, really cute, Ethan," Megan said. He stood behind Amy and crossed his arms. "I was just telling Helen about you, actually, but there's not much interesting to say."

"Yeah, whatever." He waved her off with one hand, then walked over to me with that ear-to-ear smile. I scooted over in the recliner, but he chose to sit on the arm. Soon, the girls became engrossed in the film, but my attention was on the lanky boy I'd grown close to.

I eyed his mess of hair with blond tips and his hairless face. I stared at the veins on the back of his hands, his fingers interlaced on his lap. Everything about him seemed genuine and kind, but something kept telling me that something was wrong with him and that I shouldn't trust him.

I wish I'd have listened to that gut feeling, but I wouldn't be here if I did...