"Are you sure we're not going to get in trouble?" I ask as Baker leads me to the employee's only section of the skating rink. He just smiles and shakes his head as he plops down in one of the four chairs surrounding the only table and unzips his backpack. "Seriously, I just feel like I shouldn't be here. And I don't want you to get in trouble."

"Summer, last week I caught the manager in here with her boyfriend's hand down her pants," he says matter-of-factly, and I blush at the thought. "No one is going to care that we're back here preparing for a presentation for school. We're fine. Do you have your flashcards?"

I scoff at him. "Did you really just ask me that?"

His lips turn up into a little smirk. The blood in my veins rises by a few degrees at the sight. "Perfect. Let's get started." He reaches into his bag and pulls out a small stack of flashcards before handing them over to me. "Those are mine. I highlighted some points I thought we should definitely mention in our presentation, but let me know what you think. Did you bring your laptop?"

"Yeah," I reply quickly as I pull my laptop out of my bag and set it on the table between us. "Did you bring yours?"

He sighs and shakes his head. "Mine broke. But I put together some slides on a flashdrive for you to take a look at before I left school today."

"Jesus, Baker," I say as I plug in the flashdrive and load up his PowerPoint presentation. "Looks like you did the whole project on your own. Why am I even here?"

He smiles. "Because I know you probably did the same exact thing, and I thought we should blend our own separate projects together so they're one cohesive project."

I hate how right he is. I finished the entire project last night just in case he failed to come through on his end. My eyes skim his slides as I go over his flashcard notes, and I have to say, I'm impressed. He really put in a lot of time and effort into this project. I show him what I've got, and he looks over all my work. Then he slaps his hand on the table, startling me as he says, "Summer, I think this may be the easiest team project I've ever done."

I laugh, feeling something flutter in the pit of my stomach. "Yeah, now we just have to do the hard part and blend them together. Shouldn't take any longer than the whole night. No big deal."

"Or we can just go with what I've got," he says. I throw a glare at him, and he laughs. "I'm kidding. Well, since we're going to be here for a while, are you hungry? I'm sure I can get Riley to cook us up a pizza or something if you want to have dinner with me."

"Everyone is always trying to feed me these days," I reply, thinking back to the conversation I had with Beth the night before. "Do I really look that starved?"

"Summer, I just asked you if you wanted to have dinner with me," he says simply. "I'm not trying to insinuate that you're malnourished."

"Oh, so now you're calling me fat," I snap teasingly, and he rolls his gray-blue eyes.

"I'm going to get us a pizza, you lunatic," he says with a chuckle, and he gets up and walks out of the breakroom, leaving me alone to take in my surroundings. There are plain gray lockers against the wall, a refrigerator that's making so much noise I'm surprised it's still functioning, and a microwave that looks like it came out of the 1990s. On the wall is a poster listing an employee's rights, but it's partially blocked by what I'm assuming is a bathroom door.

Baker comes back a few minutes later carrying a large pepperoni pizza. He sets it on the table between us before grabbing a couple plates. "Beware, the pizza tastes like it's been in the freezer for two years."

"Gee, you really know how to make a girl feel special," I say as I take a slice of pizza for myself and plop it down onto the plate. We spend the next couple hours going over our separate projects together, working hard to blend them into one. We're interrupted several times by Baker going up to the front to help some kids pick out their skates. But it's a Tuesday, so it's not very busy.

A couple hours into working in the back room, we decide to move to the kitchen to clean up so Riley can go home early. Baker is sweeping up some spilled tortilla chips on the floor as we practice our presentation, and we're almost finished when my phone pings with a text message. My mom asking where I am and when I'm planning on being home. I heave a frustrated sigh as I shoot her back a quick response letting her know I'm working on a school project and that I plan on being home soon. Then I set my phone back on the table and try to get back to work.

"Boyfriend trouble?" Baker asks casually as he slides the broom under a cabinet to sweep up more spilled food.

I shake my head. "No boyfriend. Just my mom asking where I am and when I'm coming home."

He nods his head, blue-gray eyes looking up at me for the first time in a while. "That must be nice. Having your mom reach out to you like that. Shows she cares."

"It's not that," I reply. "I mean, sure. Yeah, it's great that she cares. But like... I don't know. Forget it. Never mind."

"No, not never mind," Baker says as he stands up straighter to stare at me. "What's going on? Does she hurt you?"

The idea that my mother would ever hurt me makes me laugh out loud. "No, it's nothing like that. Actually, it's the opposite." He raises his eyebrows. "Ever since the other night, she's been treating me with kid gloves. It's more annoying than anything else. Makes me not want to go home. I can't wait to go to the UK next semester. I just need some space."

"You're going to the UK next semester?" he asks, and I nod my head. "What for? You got family there?"

A lump begins to form in my throat. "Yeah, but I'm going for school. Student exchange thing. I'll be too busy studying to visit family anyway. Besides, it's not really family I care to see all that much. Just my dad's parents. And I haven't seen them since I was a baby."

The broom goes completely forgotten as he leans against a counter, folds his arms, and says, "That'll be kind of cool though. I mean, studying abroad. But maybe don't study too hard. Might not be such a bad idea to visit with your grandparents while you're there."

I laugh. "You're starting to sound just like my mom." Just yesterday, my mom asked if I'd contacted my grandparents yet to let them know I'm going to be in the country. I told her no, and she didn't press the subject. But I know it's coming, and I have no idea what I'm going to tell her. "I just don't want to see them. I don't know why. I just don't."

"Maybe you're angry at them," he says simply, and I blink in surprise at his words. He shrugs his shoulders. "I mean, it would make sense. From what you said the other day, their child pretty much abandoned you. Could it be that maybe a small part of you blames them? Even if subconsciously?"

I consider this for a few moments, listening to the sound of the old beat up broom brushing across the broken linoleum as he begins sweeping again. "No, I don't think so. I've never felt angry with them before. And we talk on the phone occasionally. They try to keep in touch as much as I'll allow them."

He sighs. "I don't know. Maybe it's the dad in them that you're scared to see."

"What do you mean?" It's a bit surreal that I'm having this conversation with him. But what's crazier is that I don't mind. Whenever my mom and I discuss my dad and his family, I immediately get defensive. But talking with Baker about it feels second nature.

He shakes his head. "I don't even really know what I mean. But like, some kids look a lot like their parents. My mom says I look just like my dad did when he was younger." A small shudder goes across Baker's body, like the thought disgusts him. "What if that's what you're afraid of? Them looking like him?" I shake my head. That doesn't feel right either. "Or maybe they'll think you look like him."

And that's it. That's the answer I've been waiting for. Well, sort of anyway. It's not so much that I think they'll think I look like him. It's that I'm scared that they'll see something about him in me. I look down at my feet, and I think he knows he hit the nail on the head. He taps my knee with the broom handle, and when I look back up he's giving me a sympathetic smile. "Don't worry too much about your trip, Summer. You're going to get to have some incredible experiences. And if you find time to spend with your grandparents, then great. But if not, then oh well."

I smile back nervously. "I guess so." Then I pause, not sure I want to voice what's actually bothering me. "Do you... do you think I am like him? Like deep down?"

He stops sweeping the floor and just stares at me for a few minutes. And he's looking at me in a way he never has before. A way that wakens the sleeping butterflies in my stomach. He sets the broom down against the counter, walks over to me, and puts one hand on my shoulder. "Summer, I promise you. You're nothing like him. He was a dull gray character in the story of your life. And you are lumen-ous."

Yup, those are definitely butterflies. Oh my God, what is happening here? Am I... could I be developing feelings for Baker Scott? No. No way. He's my number one rival. The one person who could be standing in the way of me getting into Columbia. I shouldn't even be talking about this stuff with him. All I'm doing is giving him ammunition to use against me in the future. And yet here I am, and here he is, and we pretty much finished our project an hour ago. So why am I still here?

We stare at each other for a few seconds too long, and the heat is building. And I remember what he told me about finding his manager in the back with her boyfriend's hand down her pants, and I feel the blush blossom in my cheeks. But then he clears his throat, and I take a step back, brushing the hair out of my eyes. Our eyes are wandering now, forcing ourselves to look at anything but each other. I'm desperate for a way to break this new tension that feels totally sexual in nature. I gently kick the broom handle back in his direction, and he catches it with the reflexes of a football player. Then I point to the floor and say, with a playful smirk, "You missed a spot."

His eyes glance down toward the spot I'm pointing at, and he laughs. A deep, throaty laugh that I know is going to haunt me in my sleep tonight. "So I have." He continues sweeping the floor, poking me again with the end of the broom handle. "Oh, excuse me. Sorry." Now I giggle, and his face lights up. Then his eyes flick back up to me, and he says quietly, "I'm going to miss you next semester when you're gone, you know."

I'm still grinning when I nod my head. I shouldn't be feeling this way. He doesn't mean any of it. He's just screwing with my head, trying to get me off my game so he can take the top spot. But even though I know it's all part of his sick mind games, I can't help but think how much I'm going to miss him too.

Author's Note:
I hope you all liked this chapter. I've been working on it for a while, tweaking things I already had. Just hope it reads well, and I hope you're all still liking Baker Scott.

My posts are going to be very irregular for a while. As I wrote the other day, my mom passed away last week. Actually, she passed away the day I was planning on getting married. It's a long story, but I can tell you that I'm far from over this grief. I don't think I ever will be. My mom was my best friend, and I already miss her more than words can say. So just giving everyone a heads up that I don't know when the next update will be for either story. Just don't give up on me, and I promise I'll come back to them in time. Thanks, dearies.
XOXO,

~Aly