I let out a yawn as I entered the kitchen. My feet were sore dancing, a headache lingered from the mixture of loud music and strobe lights, and there was glitter in my hair. I don't even know where the glitter came from.

"You got in late last night." Mom sat at the table, sipping on her coffee and scrolling through her phone.

It was almost two a.m. when Chelsea dropped me off. The club closed at one, but we stopped at a twenty-four hour diner for food. Dancing into the night could really work up an appetite.

Staying out past curfew wasn't the best idea, I was really testing Mom's patience, but I wasn't ready to go home and be alone with my thoughts. 

I grabbed a pack of strawberry pop-tarts from the pantry and slipped the pastries into the toaster.

"I can't tell if you're mad or not," I said, eyeing her as I dusted crumbs from my hands.

"I'm not mad," she laughed, looking up at me. "It wasn't school night and you didn't come home wasted. Next time just send a text."

"Okay," I agreed, thankful she didn't make it into a big deal.

Going into the fridge I grab the milk and then got a cup from the cabinet, filling it. I could feel Mom watching my every move.

"What?" I asked, placing the milk back in the fridge.

"I've been waiting for you to bring it up, but since that's not happening any time soon... how was your meeting with Victoria?"

Mom had been very vocal about me taking advantage of the opportunity with Victoria. Which was why I didn't want to tell her that the meeting crashed and burned.

"It was bad," I told her. She frowned as I rested my elbows on the island and propped my chin up in my palms. "She was probably going to offer me a chance to work with Shanelle Walker before I ran out."

Mom was sympathetic, coming over and rubbing my back the way she did whenever I was sick or had a bad day. "What happened?"

A lot. I thought as I retrieved my warm Pop-Tarts from the toaster. How could I sum up that train wreck of a night without making her worry? Between Miles almost kissing me, Vivian trying to use Jerrell against me and the upcoming fashion show, I already had so much to worry about.

So I gave her answer that was as close to the truth as I wanted get, "It's just bad timing."

"Cold feet?" she guessed.

"More like cold everything," I admitted.

My whole Westbrook experience was like I'd been thrown into cold water. I was waiting for my body to get used to temperature, but it was like as soon as I did a new wave of ice cold water hit me.

I was ready to get out and quit.

"Doing new things, getting out of your comfort zone, its scary," she offered. "But it's rewarding. You can't keep dodging opportunities because you're nervous. You have to do what scares you."

Like always, she was right. I knew I couldn't keep running away from things. But running was so much easier.

"You're coming to The Oak tonight, right?" Mom asked after a moment of silence.

"Of course," I said, taking a sip of my milk.

"Good." She smiled, putting her coffee cup in the sink. "I'm going to need a friendly face in the crowd to make through this performance."

I admired her bravery. "How come you did pass down any of your fearlessness?"

"It's in you somewhere," she told me. "You just got to dig deep to find it."

She left for work and I finished off my breakfast and dumped the dishes in the sink.

Just as I got back to my room my phone chimed with a text.

Miles:
We still painting?

I had almost forgotten about that. If he was still planning to come over, maybe Vivian didn't tell him anything. Or maybe he didn't believe her if she did tell him? Or, most likely, he just didn't care about my random hook-up.

Despite the ache in my chest at that last thought, I sent him a quick confirmation text and he said he'll be over soon.

I was still a little excited that he'd be coming over. I had a lot of fun with him last night—well, before the whole Jerrell thing and me running, yet again, from an awkward situation.

Why did I have to like him?

Whatever. I had to push those thoughts aside. More importantly, I needed to put on some pants.

Twenty minutes later I was fully dressed in an old T-shirt and jeans and rushing to open the door for Miles.

"Morning, ma'am, I heard you needed you drain snaked," he winked.

My laughter was mixed with relief. I'd been stressing about him cover, thinking things would've been weird. But he was still his goofy self.

"Ew." I punched his arm before letting him in and closing the door.

He laughed, rubbing his arm. "Took the whole drive over here to think of that."

"It doesn't even make sense because we're painting, not plumbing," I noted.

"You try to think of a pick up line involving paint," he challenged.

Coming up with nothing I said, "My mind isn't as dirty as yours. Let's just go to my room." His lips turned up into a smirk and rolled my eyes. "Don't say anything."

He followed me up the stairs to my room where I had the paint, trays and rollers all laid out.

I had been in the process of laying down tarp on the carpet to shield it from any stray paint, when Miles had arrived. The blue material rustled as I walked across it with my bare feet to continue taping it down at the base of the wall.

"You're still going with the stars?" Miles asked from behind me.

"Yup." I stood, finished with taping. "Kimber let me borrow some stencils. They're in my bag." I pointed to my messenger bag that was on the desk behind him.

He grabbed it, complaining about how heavy it was right before everything fell out of it because he held it upside down.

I looked down at the pile of wrinkled graded school assignments, stationary, candy wrappers and other various things I stuffed in my bag and then up at an amused looking Miles.

"How the hell did all of that," he pointed to the mess, "fit into this little bag?"

"It's not that much." I didn't even believe my own words.

Taking the bag that dangled upside down in his hand, I crouched down to start shoving everything back into it.

"That can't be good for your shoulder," he said, joining me on the floor. "Why don't you throw some of this stuff out?" He picked up a worksheet. "Why are you hanging on to math homework from December of last year?"

I could only see the back of the paper, which was why I could read the message scrawled in the bottom corner.

Happy Birthday
         - Shannon

She had been helping the teacher grade papers and took the opportunity to reach out to me. I made a show of stuffing the paper into my bag as if it was just another graded assignments. I didn't trust her or any of my old friends.

Grabbing the paper from him, I crumpled it into a ball. Maybe I did need to throw somethings out. "Would it make you happy if I cleaned out my backpack?"

"Ask your back."

As I began to pile my binder and notebooks into a stack, Miles pulled something else from the mess.

"Cameron's third grade X-Mas play," he read out loud. His eyes narrowed at me. "Why do you have this?"

I'd forgotten all about that DVD.

"Cameron let me borrow it," I told him, reaching for it with no luck. Now I was extra curious about what happened to a nine year old Miles during the play. "I haven't watched it yet."

"Good, you don't need to see it." His hand went behind his back and when it came back into view the disc was gone.

"What'd you do, stick it down your pants?"

"Only one way to find out," he winked.

"Pervert." My efforts to keep a straight face failed when he laughed.

I continued sorting the things I needed from the trash. Miles appeared to help, but I realized he was just snooping. Not that I minded, there wasn't anything interesting among the mess.

"Oh, wow," he muttered, looking down at crumpled piece of paper. "You kept the note I threw at you on your first day. I'm flattered."

"Don't be, I never read it." That time I was able to grab the paper before he pulled away. "I'm sorry... that you never learned how to swim."

"And I meant every word of that apology."

I wadded up the paper, throwing it at him and hitting him in the face. He didn't bother blocking it because he knew he deserved it.

"Screw this," I huffed, shoving the contents of my backpack underneath my desk and standing to my feet. "Let's paint. I have to get it done before tonight."

Miles stood as well. "Right, you have your date with Jerrell."

I froze. Maybe Vivian had told him about my kiss and like I feared, he didn't care. Still, I felt the need to set things straight.

"So you were listening to our conversation?"

"You were standing like two feet a away." He shrugged, avoiding my gaze as he grabbed the paint can and began to open it. Was it possible he was jealous?

Had I read him wrong? He was good at masking when things were bothering him. What if did care? What if he really did like me?

Before getting too ahead of myself, I said, "It's not a date."

He meet my eyes then, his face remaining neutral. If he over heard about The Oak, then he definitely heard about the kiss. I had to explain.

"But we did date. Back in eight grade," I told him. Having him their listening, waiting for me to finish and passing I judgments, I understood what he meant when he accused me of being too good a listener. I felt myself start to ramble, but couldn't stop.

"I hadn't really seen him in years and last month at his Halloween party, I don't know, I got all of these old feelings and I kissed him. But I'm not interested in him, I was just...confused."

When I finally got my mouth to stop talking and dared to look at him, I saw that corners of his lips quivered like he wanted smile or laugh. "Is that what I sound like when I go off on tangent?"

"I learned from the best," I joked, face still burning from my confession. "And the think at The Oak, Jerrell's dad own the restaurant my mom's band is playing at tonight."

His face broke into an amused smile as he looked up at me. "Your mom is in a band?"

My insides flopped around at his smile. A part of me wanted to believe that smile was more for me not going on a date and less for my moms band.

Her words rang through my head now.

Do what scares you.

It'd be dumb of me not to take her advice. Obviously, no matter how many times I said Miles wasn't a part of the reinvention plan, my heart wasn't going to listen.

So, I dug deep and found a little courage buried down at the bottom of me.

"Do you want to come see the show?" I asked, pulling at my fingers.

His brow arched as he peered up at me. "With you?"

"No, with my mom," I retorted.

He chuckled, his green eyes crinkling at the sides. "Yeah, okay."

I nodded. "Cool."