I told her I was going to hang out with Mac, kissed her head, and went on my way.

Apparently Mac wanted to go try this new vegan friendly restaurant that opened in the city. Dylan was invited but he had something to do for his mom so he declined. I met Mac at her house and we rode together in her car (which was fine by me. I would ride in her pristine Beamer any day).

"Will you try the impossible burger? I want to try their vegan tacos," she said excitedly, bouncing in her seat. I wasn't vegan, or even vegetarian for that matter, but I also wasn't picky. "If this place is better than Green Tree, they can have all my money."

I wasn't entirely sure what Mac's reasoning for being vegan was. As far as I knew, her parents weren't. It wasn't a health issue. It was probably because she had such a big heart for animals, which was admirable. She was stronger than I was. I couldn't give up bacon.

"How is Marcus?" I asked, deciding to test the waters on this Dylan situation.

She glanced at me before returning her eyes to the road. Always the early bird, she had gone and gotten her hair done this morning. Probably before I was even out of bed. She'd taken the twists out and embraced her natural hair, pushed back by some tight braids on the front of her head.

"We broke up again," she sighed. I saw a glimmer of hope in the distance for Dylan. I just had to find out how she felt. "He was being a dick when he took me home last night, that's all I remember. And he hasn't texted me today."

I really wished Mac would just bite the bullet and admit she could do better than some loser with no job who cheats, lies, and disrespects. Sure, he was a good looking guy, if I had to say. But that's about all he had going for him.

But we couldn't say that. Mac was in so deep that it'd hurt her to tell her the truth.

"For good?" was all I asked.

"I hope not," she muttered as she pulled into a parking spot.

We exited the car and made our way in, sitting at a table for two.

I could see the sadness in her body: the dejected slump of her shoulders, the worry lines on her forehead (the same ones my mom was trying to pick on me for), and the nervous biting on the inside of her cheek. I wished so badly for her to wake up.

"I'm gonna say some stuff and I need you to listen without getting angry with me. I'm only saying it as your friend, okay?"

"Cade–"

"No," I stopped her. "You need to hear it. And if you want to leave me alone at this potentially amazing vegan joint by myself after I say it, that's fine. I'll just order the impossible burger and the tacos and eat them all by myself."

Mac cracked a smile. I knew she wouldn't be angry enough to abandon me with no ride back, but I had to approach this carefully.

"Marcus is a douchebag. You're kind of the most amazing person I've ever met, Mackenzie, and you need to know your own worth," I said, watching her blush and hide her cheeks. "He's done some shit to you that I won't bring up right now. I've never seen you so shut off until you started dating him."

She didn't say anything. Just listened and looked away.

"Maybe what I'm saying will mean nothing. And if you want to forgive him when he texts you, that's on you. I said what I needed to say. Now let's act like we weren't having a serious conversation because the waiter is on his way here."

She was quiet for the rest of lunch. I tried to think of how to investigate how she felt about Dylan, but it just didn't seem appropriate with her shift in moods. I was glad she didn't seem angry with me, but she wasn't her usual self, either.

Her phone was on the table when I saw Marcus' text pop up. We both looked at it, then looked at each other. She blew up her cheeks with air and just turned the phone face down.

When I got back home, I just holed myself in my room. I didn't feel like being social for the rest of the day. Beth wanted to come watch me play my video games so we just hung out for a few hours with snacks.

My phone chimed, signalling a phone call. It was Jameson. Once again, I was reminded of the weird shit that went on the night before.

"Your phone's winging," Beth stated. "I'll answer it–"

"No," I said, snatching the phone and declining the call. That would be mortifying. "It's okay. I'll call them back later."

No, I wouldn't.

For the rest of the day, I insisted on blocking Jameson from my mind completely, but it wasn't that easy. I couldn't stop thinking about him. What the hell? I'd talk to my adviser on Monday and ask about switching out of Mrs. Ricketts class.

I could avoid him for the rest of the year. Or maybe until his brother finished the building project and they moved far, far away.

'Call me back, please.'

My heart pounded in my chest. Why did his voice have to appear in my imagination, too? This whole thing was just a mess. An ass-backwards, weird mess.

I looked at my phone as if it were a foreign object, cursing myself for ever giving him my number in the first place. The vibes were off with him from the start. I was just too nice. That was it.

Beth snapped me out of my intense hate-thinking. "Um, you died," she said, pointing at the TV. She was right. I was distracted by the thoughts of that godforsaken boy for so long that someone had found me standing still in the game and killed me. I wished it were real life.

"Oops," I said with a fake laugh. "You want to try?"

I handed her the controller and picked my phone up, walking out into the hallway. I probably stood there just looking at the call button for ten minutes. Beth had probably broken my console in the time it took me just to press the fucking button.

Finally, I did it.

"Cade."

Words wouldn't come out. I just drew a blank. Nothing about this situation, and this guy, and his fucking superpowers made sense. What could I say?

"Are you feeling okay?" Jameson asked when I said nothing.

I coughed. "I'm fine."

He sighed on the other end of the line. I could imagine him sitting in bed running his massive hands through his hair, mussing it up. "Do you want to hang out today?" he asked.

"No," I said before I could think.

"Okay," was all he said before hanging up.

I couldn't ignore the strange, gut-wrenching feeling in my stomach. Beth whined out my name so I went back to my room, feeling both relieved and unsatisfied. I exited whatever menu screen she accidentally opened and laid back on my bed.

Mac posted a picture with Marcus later that night. So much for trying to change her mind. I guess the only thing we could do was twiddle our thumbs and wait for the straw to break the camel's back.

Dylan and I texted for the rest of the night about it. I felt for him. I really did. Unfortunately, feelings lay in fate's hands. We had no choice on the matter.

~:~:~

On Monday, I almost skipped science.

I couldn't face him. It would be too weird, too awkward, even for me. But I'd spent too much time in makeup school the year before to even think about skipping that early in the semester. So I sucked it up and walked into the class with my head low.

He wasn't there yet. Maybe he was skipping.

I relaxed a bit at the thought, settling in at my desk and pulling my stuff out. Mrs. Ricketts was frantically writing something on the board while we all filtered in. I couldn't help but begin eavesdropping on the table next to me when they mentioned Jameson's name.

"I mean, he is hot," one girl, Abby, said.

"I tried to talk to him in English but he ignored me," the other one said. I didn't know her name.

Abby hummed in thought. "Maybe he's gay," she said and they both giggled. "He kind of gives me gay vibes."

I furrowed my eyebrows. What the hell were gay vibes? The thought of him being gay didn't even occur to me. If he was gay, that would kind of explain the weird hand kiss thing. But I wasn't necessarily sought after by the out gay kids at school.

Honestly, I never really thought about my own sexuality like that. Girls came and went, and I'd had my share of loose flirting and even dated one girl freshman year. It was sort of out of peer pressure, though, since everyone was dating someone. I didn't feel much attachment to her, though, so I broke it off after two weeks.

I wasn't not attracted to men. Maybe I'd caught myself staring subconsciously at a picture of young Johnny Depp for longer than I'd like to admit. And I'd thought about what it would be like to date a guy.

Wait. Was I gay?

My eyes widened as I stared at my desk. Suddenly I was overcome with anxiety. Now that I thought about it, Jameson really was hot (oh my god, did I just think that?).

"Hey," I heard beside me and I jumped.

Fuck. There he was. He showed up. I swallowed the lump in my throat and nodded at him, not even turning my head.

"We can talk about what happened, if you want," he said, but he didn't sound very sure. I just shook my head, clicking and unclicking my pen to keep myself busy. I heard him sigh. "Look, can we just start over?"

Oh, no. Nope, we couldn't. How could I start over with you knowing that I was sort of attracted to you? That made things even worse?

I finally looked at him. My heart fluttered. He had gotten a haircut, just trimmed the sides and neatened the top. He looked clean. I could smell his cologne from my seat, but that could be blamed on our close proximity.

"It's fine. It never happened," I gave him a close-lipped smile and turned back to my desk. "Did you have a good weekend?"

I could feel him looking at me. "You don't have to be fake around me . . ." he mumbled. "I understand now that I need to just cut to the chase with you, but some things are just better left unsaid. At least for now."

Well, that was cryptic and confusing. I couldn't even begin to understand what that meant because Mrs. Ricketts began her lesson. That last part – at least for now – was tacked on after a moment's pause. How was anything to be said when we had just met? Did he want to tell me he was gay? Or did he want to tell me he really was a witch and maybe I was destined to be a witch hunter?

My mind was wandering.

I looked over at him again, finding him sitting with his arms crossed. He could easily be mistaken for listening to the teacher, but I knew better. I could tell he was deep in his thoughts, his jaw screwed tight and eyes drawing laser beams into the whiteboard.

"Would you like to go on a drive with me?" I whispered without thinking. "After school?"

He looked at me, dark hazel eyes scanning my face. I became aware of how small he made me feel when he looked at me like that, like he was searching for something. My cheeks heated up.

"I'll drive," Jameson said.

And that was that.