In freshman year, my dad passed away.

I just started high school, and already I felt more depressed than ever before. I'd ghosted most of my friends after the funeral and my best friend who'd stayed patiently through it all moved towns. And so I was alone. I sat during lunchtimes by a canopy of trees, hidden from anyone, as I cried my eyes out.

Then one day. All that changed. Nash Cooper happened.

Even at the young age of fourteen, Nash had such a mature, self-assured air above him that made me terrified to talk to him. He asked with a purpose, confident but not arrogant, humble not prideful. Nash Cooper has always been that too-cool guy. We were seat partners in chemistry, but we never spoke, instead communicating with quick nods and grunts as we completed projects together.

I was too introverted to talk. In retrospect, I wonder if he was as well.

Then came the fateful day, I called " the incident". I was sitting alone amongst on the grass as usual when a shadow hovered over me. I looked up, passed long, jean-cladded legs, and there stood Nash, the sun glinting off his perfect face. He still had some fat on his cheeks, and his eyes weren't so emotionless back then. In his hand, he held a chocolate. Which he promptly offered me.

I frowned, keeping my hands crossed to myself.

"What do you want?" I'd snapped, upset that someone saw me crying. I chose an isolated place on purpose. So the other kids wouldn't see me and make fun of me.

"Here," he crouched low, to my level, and offered the chocolate again.

"Why are you giving me this?" I was still wary. Knowing the boys in my year, this was probably some terrible joke.

"Crying won't fix anything," he gave me a crooked smile. "But chocolate might."

Gingerly, I took the challenge bar, maintaining steady eye contact to see if he was lying. Those dark blue eyes revealed nothing to me. I clenched my jaw and shifted back, unaware of what the motives were of the boy before me.

"Th – thank you," I managed to say. "How do you know where I was?"

He shrugged. "I always see you running here. Finally figured a way to cheer you up, I guess."

I couldn't keep the question from spewing from my mouth. "Why?"

"You seem so down all the time," he told me. And I couldn't believe such a popular guy would notice me. "Besides, like I said. There's no use in crying. East some chocolate, you'll feel better."

"You don't know anything about me," I'd remarked. "So why don't you leave me alone!"

I should have laughed at his Harry Potter reference. I should've joined him and his friends, and gotten over my father's death. But I didn't. I was confused and scared, and all the wrong emotions were clawing at me, making me say everything wrong. In my heart, deep down I wanted to smile at Nash and hoped he liked me. But my mind shoved down those feelings.

What if it is a prank?

What if I misinterpreted the situation?

Looking back, I regret not taking the chance. I developed an immediate crush on Nash, the moment he walked away from me and never looked back. It was too late by then; I'd lost my chance. And I didn't blame him, I blamed myself for being such a recluse. Why couldn't I have been better at talking to me people? He was so nice to me, and I behaved so cruelly.

Nash ended up getting a girlfriend. Tara, a foreign exchange student - who had rich brown skin and the prettiest curls I'd ever seen, flawless skin and a height I could only dream of. She spoke three different languages and joined the debate team. The only reason she and Nash broke up at the end of the semester was because she transferred schools.

To France.

I'd gotten over Nash by then. And we didn't interact since.

Until now. I realised I still have that terrible crush on him. Only, it's probably worsened.

***

Someone jumped into the pool. Someone who couldn't swim. Michael, half drunk, saw a pigeon wading on the pool cover and thought it was empty. So he joined the pigeon's walk across the stretch of blue – and fell in. No one able-bodied was around to help Jake and Clarissa pull Michael out. That was the big emergency that Jake interrupted us for.

Was Nash and I really about to kiss? I had no idea.

Now, the chaos has finally calmed to still waters, and everyone has returned indoors, away from the blistering cold. I stand on the patio, leaning against the bannister of the balcony. Cool air ruffles my hair, and Jake's gorgeous backyard is oddly therapeutic. I could lay down in a hammock here and sleep forever.

"You want a coke?" Jake's voice is tired as he approaches me, and he leans back against the rail.

I take one of the red cans from his hand. "Thank you."

He shrugs, cracking open his own cool drink. "No problemo."

"So, Michael, he's good?"

Jake nods. "Yeah, he'll be fine. Not the first time someone tried something stupid."

"Yeah," I have a sip of the coke, gassy liquid bubbling down my throat. "Didn't someone break a chandelier at Ralph's house?"

"Oh yes," Jake runs a hand down his face. "I wasn't there for that party. I forced Nash to attend, and I got jumped on the way home. Guess Karma really is a bitch."

I swallow hard. "Shit. I'm sorry. I forgot that..."

Jake waves it off with a weak chuckle. I've never seen him so unenergetic. So put out before. It's scary to think even the sunshine kids have rainy days sometimes.

"It's fine, I'm over it," He drops his head back. "I knew street racing was dangerous the moment I signed up for it and how many times Nash tried to stop me."

"Nash tried to stop you?" I ask. I always assumed it would be the other way around. Nash is such a good driver, and he looks so home seated in a flashy sports car, with the night sky as a backdrop.

"Yup," Jake tells me. "Nash wasn't interested, at all. I knew Quick from his days in school and was so eager to join the crew. When they finally let me in, I couldn't help myself."

"So why did Nash join?"

"To protect me," Jake says simply. "He's always been like an older brother to me. Protective, responsible. My parents don't know about the racing, but they trust Nash more than me."

I nod in understanding.

"How are things with Nash?" Jake asks.

I frown. "What do you mean?"

Jake gives me a look. "I'm not so dumb, Carey. I've seen the heated loose the two of us exchange. Y'all hooked up yet?"

I baulk. "No!"

"Huh. Guess I owe Clarissa some money."

"You wagered on us getting together?!"

"Yeah," Jake says as if it's obvious. "You just lost me ten dollars."

I cannot believe this.

"Jake, can I ask you a question?" I say after a long stretch of silence.

"You just did."

A peal of soft laughter escapes my lips. "Fair enough, I asked for that."

"That you did."

I turn my body to face him. "No, seriously."

Jake knits his brows, confused. "Sure."

"How do you do it with Clarissa? I mean, how are y'all such a perfect couple? You guys make it look so easy, like being in love is really a fairy tale come true."

"We're far from perfect," Jake says. "But we both want this relationship. We love each other, we love being together. For us, that's enough. To love someone is to trust them with your heart knowing they'll protect it and keep it safe ... and hoping you'll love them back."

"How did you know," I take a breath before continuing. "That you were in love?"

Jake regards my question with precision. "When I realised that the best part of my day was seeing Clarissa's face. And when I wasn't with her, I wanted to be near her. It pained me being away for too long. I thought of her constantly and I wanted to share everything with her."

"You're wiser than you look, Jayson," I push his shoulder.

He pushes back light-heartedly. "Yeah, well, Nash isn't the only smart one around here."

"Mhmm," I hum, staring up at the cloudless sky. The stars twinkle back at me as if dancing to the music in the background. "He told me, you know."

"Nash?"

"He told me about his parents," I say slowly.

"Oh. That," something flickers in Jake's brown eyes, and he lets out a breath through his teeth. "Nash must trust you a lot. He's never told anyone about his parents. Too scared the word would get out."

I shrug, brushing it off. "Well, it's not like I have anyone to tell. No friends, remember?"

Jake mocks hurt. His usual playful persona surfacing. "Carey! I thought I was your best friend!"

"Nah, babe, that's me," Clarissa comes out of the house, leans her cheek against Jake's broad back and smiles at me. "Right, Carey?"

"Uh," I look between the two of them for any sign of jest. The couple look solemn. Seriously? They both wanted to be friends with me?

Why? Even I didn't want to be friends with me sometimes.

" Hmph," Jake makes a noise of contempt and twists gently Clarissa so he can hold her. "Guess she doesn't like either of us."

Clarissa nods in agreement. "It's Nash, isn't it?"

"Whose talking about me?" Nash appears from the shadowy doorway as if detaching from the very darkness around him.

"Nothing," I splutter.

I know my cheeks are flaming.

Clarissa discreetly raises a knowing brow in my direction. Smooth Carey. Like nails on a fucking chalkboard. I shake my head pleadingly, and she pretends to zip her mouth.

"Just what an excellent racer you are," Clarissa gives him a charming smile.

Nash doesn't buy it one bit. He leans against the rails next to me on his elbow, ankles crossing.

It's when you like a guy, I realise, that every movement they make becomes so inexplicably hot. Pushing back their hair. Driving a car. Simple walking. It stirs up a feeling in your chest, makes your brain all fuzzy.

And right now, Nash looks like a model leaning like that.