"Can you please stop banging on the door? You're giving me a headache," Miles groaned from his spot on the floor.

The room was dimly lit by a flashlight we found on one of the shelves and the two of us somehow forgot our phones (mines at home, his in his car).

I looked back at him. He sat, leaning against the wall with my purple headband wrapped around his head like a bandage. He looked rough, which was expected after almost being killed by a shelf.

"I think that giant cut on your forehead is giving you a headache," I told him. "We need to get out of here."

I'm sure it's only been about ten minutes since we've gotten locked in here, but that was ten minutes too long.

"You're not claustrophobic, are you?"

Giving up on anyone hearing my calls for help, I took a seat next to him and stretched my legs out in front of me. "No, I just prefer to not be locked in a closet. Also, I don't really enjoy being this close to bleeding people."

"Hey."

"What?" I said, focusing my eyes on the ceiling.

"Hey," he nudged my foot with his.

My gaze shifted down to him and I quickly turned away when I realized he had lifted the headband, showing me the gash on his forehead. He let out a throaty laugh.

"Jerk," I said, shoving him to the side.

He simply continued to laugh. "Does it make me look bad ass? I heard girls like a guy with scars."

"You look like you need a doctor." I stood up again, looking out of the frosted window. "How has no one walked by yet?"

"Relax, someone will come," he assured me. "Someone always comes."

I turned to him. "You talk like you've been locked in here before."

"This is a good place to hide if you're trying to get out of a math test," he said with a smile.

Accepting defeat, I returned to my spot on the floor beside him. "So, is this also a part of destiny's plan?"

His lips curled up into a half smile as he snorted a laugh. "All this mocking is starting to hurt my feelings, Mermaid."

His little confession of believing in destiny still hadn't left my mind. It was weird to think that he found the thought comforting. There was nothing comforting about some unknown force controlling everything. People made their own decisions, their own mistakes, and they had to accept responsibility.

"Sorry," I muttered, scraping black polish from my thumbnail. "I just don't get why you'd believe in something like that."

He was silent for much longer than I thought he'd be, so I glanced over at him. His eyebrows were furrowed as his eyes narrowed down at his clasped hands, as if in deep thought. I watched as his jaw clenched, then softened, then clenched once more before his emerald eyes flickered up to me.

"Believing that things happen for a reason is the only thing that keeps my sane," he told me, his eyes looking away once more.

Despite his curious response I wasn't going to probe any further. Asking people to vent about their problems went against what I believed in. I didn't have to ask though, because he continued on his own.

"Choosing to look for a silver lining after my sister's death was the only thing that kept me going," he said, picking lint from his jeans. "Believing that her death was a part of a bigger picture helped cushion the blow."

As a professional avoider of talking about my feelings, I didn't understand why he was sharing that with me. It didn't make me uncomfortable, though, the way talks like that usually did. It was why I hated the idea of going to support groups. Maybe hearing about how he coped with loss didn't make me squirm because he wasn't a complete stranger.

I knew more about him than the fact that he lost his sister. In the support group all I could see were the broken faces of grief, even though the one time that I went we only introduced ourselves to each other. Knowing why they were all there completely warped my view of them.

Getting to know Miles before knowing about his sister made it different. He wasn't just a guy affected by death. He was a slightly annoying, somewhat humorous guy that had a huge ego and a kind heart.

At Aldridge, I was the girl whose dad killed a car full of teens and himself. The girl that didn't even attempt to stop he drunken father from driving in the first place. Here in Westbrook they saw me as a friend. But would they still view me that way if they knew the gritty details of my past?

"Wow, I didn't mean for things to get so heavy," he laughed lightly, bringing me out of my thoughts. "I don't usually spill my guts like that. I think I hit my head harder than I thought." He looked over at me now and in the dim light I swear I saw his cheeks flush. Miles Hanson being embarrassed is something I never thought I'd see.

"Don't worry, I won't tell anyone."

"Thanks." His gaze lingered on me for a few beats and I noticed just how close we were.  His eyes dropped to my lips for only half a second before he looked away, adjusting his position on the hard tiled floor of the closet.

"You better not or I'll tell everyone the dirt I found out about you," he threatened.

My brain stumbled on the abrupt shift from intense to playful, but I recovered quickly. "What dirt?"

He smirked triumphantly. "You ripped your pants playing dodgeball in the fourth grade."

Of all the things that could've come out of his mouth, that was the last thing I expected. "How do you know that?"

My question was met with laughter, then he said, "I never reveal my sources.

"It was Nikki," I said confidently, the answer becoming obvious to me. "What else did she say?"

Another laugh escaped his lips. "I'm not telling you."

Rolling my eyes at him, I crossed my arms over my chest in a huff. The thought of him walking around with stories from my childhood was a bit worrisome. The next time I saw Nikki we were fighting.

"The one thing she wouldn't talk about was your dad," he said, a hesitant look on his face. "She said that was off limits."

So, she could keep her mouth shut if she really wanted to. At the moment I was having a hard time doing that. I wanted to tell Miles about my dad. Would he blame me like my old friends did?

He was constantly surprising me with these hidden parts of him, that I couldn't have even taken a guess at what his reaction would've been.

I didn't have a chance to find out what would've happen, though, because the door opened, flooding the small supply closet with light. My eyes squinted as I looked up at the tall figure who interrupted our moment. Once my eyes adjusted to the light, I saw it was Owen.

"I found them!" he turned to shout at someone down the hall. Miles and I stood up from the floor, just as Cameron joined Owen at the door.

As we stepped out into the hall Owen had a mischievous smirk on his face. "You two sneak away for a little..." he thrusted his hips at the air and I wanted to smack the goofy looking grin off his face.

Thankfully Miles did that for me. Although, he went for the back of Owen's head, while I would've went for his face. It was still satisfying, though.

"What the hell happened to you?" Cameron asked and Miles decided to show rather than tell. Both Cameron and Owen let out pained winces as they examined it. They looked disgusted, yet impressed by the cut. Boys were weird.

"Miles?" Shocked gasp sounded from behind us. Turning around I find Vivian, in her puffy Belle costume, walking towards us. "What happened to you?"

Once she reached him she yanked my headband from around his head, tossing it to the ground as she assessed the damage. Her theatrics made my eyes roll.

"Hold up," Owen said, taking a step back. "I'm positive this is in violation of the bet."

"What bet?" Vivian demanded, looking to Owen and Cameron. Miles shook his head at them, but they didn't get the hint.

After they filled her in Vivian smiled smugly. "Well, now it all makes sense. I knew there had to be logical reason you've been hanging around her," she said to Miles. "You and your dumb bets," she frowned, brushing his hair back with her claw-like fingernails. "You need to see a doctor."

I waited for Miles to say something in my defense. That never came though. Instead he allowed Vivian to whisk him away with no objections. It was becoming more and more clear that she had some sort of hold over him. Whatever it was, it was enough to make him bend over backwards for her.

"What exactly were the parameters of this bet?" Cameron asked Owen after Miles and Vivian disappeared around the corner. "I know he couldn't show up with her, but was he allowed to leave with her?"

"Hmm," Owen hummed. Turning to me he asked, "What do you think?"

There was a tightness in my chest as I watched Miles walk away with Vivian. Not only was he leaving me, he was leaving with her.

"I think he lost the bet."