"Whoa," I say on Monday when I see Baker again. "You really took a beating during that game, didn't you?" He gives me a tense smile as I take in his busted lip and badly bruised. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"I was fine once the headache passed," he answers, but he doesn't look fine. We're sitting in his car during our mutual free period. We'd had intentions of not studying until I took a look at his face for the first time since the game. Now I'm too afraid to even touch him. Too scared that I'll do something to hurt him. He must sense this, because he pulls me into him and presses his swollen lip against my cheek. "I'm okay, Summer. I promise."

"Maybe you should go see a doctor though," I say, concerned that he's in more pain than he's letting on. "You know, just to make sure."

He shakes his head. "No need for that. This isn't the first time the game has kicked my ass, and it won't be the last."

I scoff, frustrated as I fold my arms across my chest. "Well, what the hell is the point of a helmet then if you're still going to come out looking like this. I don't like it. Seeing you this way. It's scary."

His fingers brush a strand of hair out of my eyes. "Don't worry your pretty head about me, Lumen," he says flirtatiously as he leans in closer.

I open my mouth to argue, but he swallows my words as he catches my lips with his own. It feels strange, kissing him with a swollen lip. But he's so good at it that I lose myself in the passion very quickly, wrapping my arms around him as he presses against me. Heat begins to build in my belly as he groans against my mouth, and I don't know if it's from pain or pleasure. Either way, the sound drives me wild as I climb on top of him, straddling him so as to get closer.

"Summer," he moans against my mouth. "What are you doing?"

"Shh," I whisper back as I attempt to quiet him again.

But he's stronger than me, forcing himself away so he can look into my eyes. Seeing the dark bruises surrounding his gray irises makes my stomach sink. "Let's not start something we can't finish," he says, and I hate that he's right.

Sighing in sexual frustration, I clumsily roll off of him, my chest heaving as I attempt to steady my racing heart. "Sorry."

He shakes his head. "Believe me, so am I." A few seconds go by as he lets out a loud sigh. Then he turns and looks at me again, smiling a swollen smile. "So in Government... want to be my partner?"

I grin, thinking about the upcoming team project we have in our Government class about different forms of government around the world. "What do you have in mind?"

"Was thinking we could focus on constitutional monarchy," he replies, and I nod my head. "It's pretty unique, and I thought it might be fun to talk about the royal family. Delve into the gory history. What do you think?"

I rest my head against his shoulder as he slips an arm around me. "Sounds like you have a partner," I say, and he pulls me closer. "I love this."

"Love what?" he asks as he strokes my hair with his fingertips and sends shivers up my spine.

"This," I say, snuggling into him. "These moments. We're always so busy, you know? Between studying and spending time with your brother or my family. It just seems like we don't have a lot of time to just... be. You know. Together. And I love being with you."

I know I'm getting dangerously close to those three words again, but I can't help it. When I'm with him, I feel everything so much stronger. It's love. I know it is. But I don't know why I can't say it. I can talk to him about anything else, but saying those words out loud feels like jumping head first into a volcano. I just can't bring myself to do it.

"I love being with you too," he replies gently. "I'm sorry we don't get to do this more often. But soon football season will be over. And we'll have more time."

"Yeah," I say. "Until we have to start our Senior Project. Then we're just going to get even busier. I've already got a job shadow lined up at one of the family law firms in town. Once I start that, you'll probably never see me again." I've been dreading the Senior Project for years now, mostly because of how extensive it is. There's the research paper, then the job shadow hours, then the oral presentation in April. And if you screw up any of them, you don't pass your senior year. So it's a huge deal.

"I'll see you," he whispers, pressing his lips against my cheek. "Even if I have to set up a consultation with the attorney to do it."

I giggle. "You're ridiculous," I say as he laughs. "What about you? Do you have your shadowing set up?"

He cringes. "Um. Not yet." I look up at him, and he sighs. "I know, I know. I just... haven't quite figured out what I want to do yet."

"I thought you wanted to get into engineering?" I ask, and he shrugs his shoulders. "Baker! You have got to figure this out. We need to hand in our topics like... next week!"

He smiles as he pokes me in the side. "Topic? You mean theme?" he asks, and I glare at him as he buries his face in my hair. "I'll work on it. I have some ideas. Just none of them are really sticking. It would probably be a lot easier if I knew what I wanted to do when I graduated."

"Well, what do you love?" I ask, staring up at him.

He shrugs his shoulders. "I don't know. I mean, it's not really about that, is it?" My brow furrows in confusion. "Summer, this isn't about what I love to do. It's about finding a way to make money. Lots and lots of money."

His words surprise me. "I mean... yea. But it's important to be happy while you're making the money, isn't—"

"No," he says firmly, cutting me off midsentence. "It's not. Not for me."

"Why?" I ask, genuinely confused. His lips form a hard line as he falls silent. "Baker?"

He sucks in a breath and closes his eyes before opening his mouth to respond. But just as he does, the alarm on my phone goes off, signaling the end of our free period. I reach for my phone and shut off the alarm, then look back up at Baker, expecting him to answer. But he just sighs and says, "Come on. Let's go inside. We... don't want to be late."

I nod my head, because he's right. But on my way to class, I can't help but think about his words and what they mean. My parents have always told me to find a career that makes me happy. They're both very happy with what they do. But Baker, who I thought would be of the same mindset, is only thinking about money. It's not what I expected of him. And the thing is, it doesn't bother me. Not really. So he'd rather make money than be happy. That's true for most people, as most believe that money buys happiness.

But I have a strange feeling that with Baker there's more to the story. He's not materialistic. Has never said a word about wanting something he can't have. His desire to make lots of money is a bit out of character for him. Which makes me question why he feels that way. And what he wants the money for.

***

We do end up partners in our Government class, and luckily for us we get to pick our topics first. Since we've already agreed, we go with constitutional monarchy, much to everyone else's dismay. Seems that we weren't the only ones with that idea, although I have a feeling, knowing my classmates, that Baker and I are going to do a much deeper dive into it than they would've.

Just like last year, we meet up at the library to work on our project, comparing notes back and forth as we work on our slides together. And I'm always amazed at how easy it is to work with him. How alike we are in the way we do things. The project isn't actually due until just after Thanksgiving, which leaves us with plenty of time to get it right. But we work on it all the time, adding things and tweaking our presentation until we can recite the whole thing without the use of notecards.

One day just before break, as we sit at the skating ring putting the finishing touches on our slides, I lean back in my chair and say, "So are you looking forward to Thanksgiving break?"

His eyes look up at me from his computer screen. "Not really. Are you?"

I nod my head. "Yeah. Kind of. I mean, am I looking forward to my mom's half-burnt turkey? Probably not. But I am looking forward to the break."

He grins as his eyebrows quirk up. "Your mom burns the turkey?" he asks, as he suppresses his laughter.

I nod my head. "Yeah. And considering she's about to pop any day now, I can't imagine it's going to get much better. But it'll be nice to spend time with them." I pause for a second, waiting for him to say something about his plans. When he doesn't, I decide to ask. "So what about you? Are you going to your aunt's house again this year?"

"My aunt's house?" he asks, confused.

"Yeah," I reply slowly. "Your aunt. You said last year that you go to your aunt's house for Thanksgiving every year."

His eyes widen. "Oh right. Yeah. No, we're not going to her house. I don't think we're doing anything this year, actually."

My jaw falls open. "What?" I ask, horrified. "You're not doing anything for Thanksgiving?"

He shakes his head. "Probably not. I mean, I'll probably throw together a little something for Ian and I. But I don't really have the funds for a big dinner."

"What about your dad?" I ask.

He shrugs his shoulders, averting his eyes as he says, "Don't know. We haven't talked about it. I assume he probably won't be home."

This is all deeply upsetting to me. My mom might not be the best cook, but we've always done something special for Thanksgiving, even if it meant going out to eat. The idea that Baker and Ian aren't going to be with their family for the holiday breaks my heart. "Come to my house," I say, and he looks up at me again. "Seriously. My parents love you guys. They're probably already half expecting you both to be there anyway."

He sighs as he squirms in his chair. "Summer, I appreciate the invitation. But my brother and I are already at your house almost every night for dinner. We impose enough, don't you think? Besides, your mom is like... nine months pregnant. I seriously doubt she's going to want to cook extra for us."

I give him a deadpan stare. "You can't be serious," I say, and he frowns. "Baker, I don't know if you've noticed, but my parents absolutely adore you and Ian. You're basically part of the family already." His eyes widen at the implication of my words, and I blush as I realize what I just said. "I-I mean... you know what I mean."

He smiles as he reaches across the table for my hand before giving it a gentle squeeze. "I know what you mean. But I really don't want to push my luck with them. Besides, Ian and I will be just fine. We'll figure it out. I'll make a chicken or something special. It'll be okay."

But I shake my head, deciding that I'm not taking no for an answer. "I want you to have Thanksgiving dinner with me and my family. I insist. And they will too. I'll talk to my parents about it tonight."

"Summer—"

"I'll talk to my parents about it tonight," I say firmly, cutting him off. He smiles, and I feel like I'm melting from the inside out. "But I already know what they're going to say."

His gray eyes are almost glowing as he says, "Okay fine. As long as your parents are okay with it, we'll come over for dinner on Thanksgiving. But you have to let me bring something, okay?"

I nod my head. "As long as it's mac and cheese," I say, grinning.

"Not mashed potatoes?" he asks teasingly. "Did I make a believer out of you?"

I lift up my shoulders in a shrug. "I don't know. Maybe. Maybe I just love you cooking for me." Maybe I just love you, I think to myself, but I don't say it out loud.

"Well, good thing I love cooking," he says as he squeezes my hand across the table.

And that's when it hits me. "Hey, there's an idea!" His brow furrows in confusion. "You love cooking. Maybe that's what you can do your Senior Project on. Cooking."

He quirks his lips to the side in thought for a moment before he shakes his head and says, "I don't know. Something tells me chefs don't make a lot of money."

"They probably do if they run their own restaurant," I reply. "Think about it! You can study business and make take some culinary classes as well. Then get a loan or something to open your own restaurant. Gourmet mac and cheese, Baker! Think about how delicious that sounds!"

He laughs as he shakes his head. "As much as I love mac and cheese, I think I could do better if I opened my own restaurant. But I see your point. And honestly, it's not a bad idea. I've always enjoyed cooking. And if I could figure out a way to make money doing it...."

What if you opened your own restaurant, and it got so big that you started your own chain?" I ask, getting excited at just the idea. "God, Baker, you could do really well with that. And there's a whole project there too. You could come up with a menu. Shadow a local restaurant owner or head chef. Get some information on how to start a business. That's it! That's your project!"

His eyes get brighter as he says, "It's definitely not a bad idea. Okay. Yeah. I'll try to see if I can shadow at a local restaurant or something. But what about my paper? Remember, I need to write a ten page essay on what my project is going to be about."

I smile. "That's easy. How about something like 'Exploring the Key Ingredients to Launching a Successful Restaurant'? You could talk about the importance of a good menu, managing costs, and marketing. There's so much there for you to explore, and it's something you're already interested in."

"You know what?" he says slowly. "You're right. It's a great idea. Better than anything I've come up with anyway. And just in time, too. Mr. Rosco has been on my ass about locking in a topic. Was starting to think he was just going to assign me one if I didn't come up with something soon."

Mr. Rosco is our English teacher, as well as one of the two teachers at the school who help seniors like us navigate the Senior Project. "I'm surprised he hasn't," I reply with a giggle. "Weren't the project topics due two weeks ago?"

He nods his head. "Yeah. But I somehow managed to get an extension for after the holiday break. He said he'd cut me some slack this time, but I had to have something for him after Thanksgiving. Got to tell you, I was getting nervous. Thought I'd fail the Senior Project and lose my top spot in the class. Probably shouldn't have given your number one rival such a good tip, Lumen."

I roll my eyes as I give him a playful shove. "Shut up. I don't want you to fail, you know. I just want you to do just a tiny bit worse than me. Nothing wrong with being Salutatorian, you know. You still get to make a speech and all that."

He smirks. "Yeah? Is that what you keep telling yourself?"

"I hate you," I grumble, folding my arms across my chest as I glare at him.

He laughs as he moves toward me and slides his arm across my shoulders. Then he leans in and whispers in my ear, "No you don't."

Goosebumps rise across my arms as his breath tickles my ear. I turn to face him, and as I do, he catches my lips with his own. The project we've been working on together all night goes forgotten as I lose myself to his kisses. It's not until a teenage boy clears his throat and holds up a handful of tickets that Baker groans and pulls away to do his actual job. It's obvious the teenage boy is annoyed, but Baker smooths it over in a way only he can do. He's so quietly charming, and it's strange how a little over a year ago, I had no idea he even existed. But, I think to myself, as I touch my swollen lips with my fingers, I'm so glad he does.

I know I've fallen in love with him. I've known for a long time now. Maybe since before our first kiss at this very skating rink. And I'm pretty sure he's feeling the same way. But neither one of us has actually said the words yet. I haven't figured out what's stopping me. There are days I want to scream those words from my rooftop. But whenever I feel them start to slip out, I stop. Hesitate. Rethink. I worry that this is all going to turn south. That these feelings are temporary, like the ones I had for Ollie.

But if there's one thing I know for sure, it's that Baker is not Ollie. He's so gentle with me. Tender, even in the way he kisses me. I truly believe he would never do anything to hurt me. But despite all of this, there are still times when I feel like he's not sharing his whole self with me. We've been together for a few months now, and he still hasn't invited me over to his house. And he's never asked if I want to meet his dad. Even though I'm trying to be patient, it worries me in a way I can't quite put my finger on.

Five minutes later, he returns, a mischievous smile on his pink lips as he slowly walks toward me like a predator stalking his prey. He presses me up against a wall and caresses my cheek with the palm of his right hand. "Now where were we?"

I tap my fingers to my lips, smiling as he presses his against mine. And like always, all my worries seem to fade away like vapor in the wind. I can ask about meeting his family another time. But I need to talk advantage of these private moments while I can. So I put all my fears, insecurities, and anxieties away and just enough the feeling of his warm body pressed against mine, his lips doing their gentle dance with my own as I fight the deep yearning in my gut for more.

Author's Note:
This is definitely shaping up to be my longest book so far. And this chapter, for whatever reason, seemed to take forever to write. Writing the next chapter right now, so hopefully you'll get another one within a few days! Stay safe and healthy until then, my dears!
XOXO,
~Aly