When I stepped into Mrs. Hawk's classroom for our morning meeting to discuss the fashion show everyone went silent. It wasn't hard to figure out why. Vivian sat at one of the desks up front, a friendly smile on her face.

"What's going on?" I asked, cautiously.

"I want to help with the show." A laugh threatened to escape my throat. Vivian must've picked up on my skepticism because she added, "I'm serious. I know I haven't exactly been nice to any of you, but I want to make up for it. Make amends or whatever."

I didn't trust her, and from the collective silence and uneasy glances I figured I wasn't the only one. It was a little convenient that she wanted to help now that Miles and I were together.

"Come on," she pleaded, standing up. "Riley, Twins, you've known me since third grade. You know I'm not a mean girl."

"Well, you should win an Oscar for your performance since school started," Chelsea said, dryly.

"I know I've been difficult lately," she agreed, pulling a hand through her hair. "I've just been having a really crappy year with my dad leaving and my mom always working. I haven't been thinking straight. Just let me make it up, please." That last part was mostly directed at me.

She was practically begging, which I might have enjoyed watching if I didn't feel so bad for her. I knew the impact of parents splitting up all too well. Still, I was hesitant to accept her help on this project. What if she wanted to sabotage it from the inside?

"Alright, I made my plea," she said, grabbing her purse. "I'll leave you to make your decision."

Once she left the room all of the attention was diverted to me.

"Do you think we should let her help?" Jem asked, tentatively.

On one hand I've been her target for a few weeks and I didn't completely trust her. On the other hand she was their friend and according to them she hasn't been acting like herself. Maybe she did really want to make amends.

"You guys know her better than I do," I told them with a shrug. "So, if you think we can trust her..."

"She has been acting more herself these past few days," Riley commented.

"And she has had a tough go of it," Kimber added with a frown. "I didn't even know about her parents. If our moms split up I'd probably act a little crazy as well."

After a little more discussion it was decided that Vivian be allowed to help. Kimber volunteered to keep an eye on her. The whole thing still had me on edge. I wasn't used to giving people second chances. Getting burned once was enough for me. But considering how many second chances I've had recently I decided to push my biases aside and trust the girls.

+ + +

At lunch Miles was at my locker, focused on his phone, too focused to even notice I was standing beside him. Remembering his reaction from the last time, I poked his neck, right behind his ear. That got his attention.

"How much do I have to pay you to forget that?" he asked, putting his phone away and moving from in front of my locker.

"There's not enough money in the world to make me forget your giggle spot," I told him as I opened my locker and unloaded my textbook into it.

"Please don't call it that. I have a rep to protect."

After closing and locking my locker back up, I slipped my hand into Miles's and we headed for the cafeteria. The fashion show preparations were on hold for that day because the girls had to get ready for an upcoming pep rally, which meant extra practices.

Miles started debating out loud if he wanted pizza or a sandwich. He could be really indecisive when it came to food.

It was weird how easy it was to fall into a routine with him. I didn't think I'd be dating again until college where I'd be far, far away from Adsgrove. Somehow Miles had sped up that process. When I was with him it felt like a town only an hour away was on an entirely different continent. It wasn't holding me back anymore.

"Oh," he muttered, reaching into the pocket of his hoodie. He pulled a small, blue star made out of paper.

He handed it to me and I tried not to squish it as I held in between my thumb and forefinger. "What is this for?"

"I don't know," he shrugged. "We had a sub in math today and this is what he spent the hour teaching us. It kinda matches your wall"

"It's cute." I smiled.

"Now I'm getting jealous. You've never called me cute," he said with a slight pout. "Give it back. It belongs in the trash."

"Nope," I said, slipping it into my the pocket of my cardigan. "And I have called you cute, just not to your face."

The smile that appeared on his face made my stomach do cartwheels. His hand moved to my waist as he pulled my back against his chest and resting his chin on my shoulder, forcing us into an awkward rhythm of walking.

"What else haven't you said to my face?" he spoke into my ear and a wave of fizzles and bubbles washed over me.

There were a few things I'd be way too embarrassed to tell him. Things I was too embarrassed to even admit to myself. Mostly because it was too soon to be having all of these feelings for him. I'd probably scare him away with the stuff I wanted to say. So, I said nothing and simply turned to kiss his cheek.

We grabbed our lunches—I got a chicken sandwich and he settled on a ham sandwich—and sat at one of the few empty tables. We weren't alone for long before Cameron and Owen joined us. I'd never hung out with the three of them together, so I wasn't sure what to expect.

"Well, aren't you two adorable," Owen said, teasingly. He then began to remove the square pieces of pepperoni from his pizza.

"Why the hell won't you just get the cheese pizza?" Miles questioned his friend.

"Cheese pizza has no taste." I couldn't argue with that logic.

"He's watching his figure," Cameron told me. Owen shoved him to the side before continuing to de-pepperoni his pizza.

"We can't all be bottomless pits like you," he retorted motioning to Cameron's tray. He a hamburger, fries, two small bags of Cool Ranch Doritos, onion rings and a large fountain drink. Plus a bag from Subway that contained even more food. Where was he storing all of those calories?

"I don't think weight loss is the way to get Chelsea back," Miles said, taking a bite if his sandwich.

"That's not what I'm doing," he defended, removing the last pepperoni from his pizza. "Man, I don't know what to do about her. The harder I try, the further she pushes me away."

He then looked over at me, his dark brown eyes gleaming. "You're her friend, maybe you have some insight."

"We're really not that close," I told him. It was true, Chelsea and I have never had an actual conversation. Just small talk, mainly about the fashion show.

"That's even better," he said, clapping his hands together. "Fresh perspective. How do you think I can get her back."

My lips pursed as I thought about it, well, pretended to think about it, at least. The answer was obvious and I didn't need to be Chelsea's best friend to know that she hated being backed into a corner. "I think you should stop trying."

He blinked at my response, then frowned. "You're idea is that I do nothing?"

"Yeah," I nodded. "You're smothering her. Figuratively and probably literally because you buy her a lot of giant teddy bears."

Miles and Cameron laughed, but nodded in agreement.

"That's what we've been telling him," Cameron said.

Owen sighed, running one of his olive-colored hands over his face. "So, do nothing?"

"Nothing." I confirmed.

He looked pensive, staring down at his pizza. "Ok, but what if --"

"Dude," Miles exhaled, looking annoyed.

"Fine, okay," Owen said, throwing his hands up. "I'll try giving her some space."

Silently, I wished him luck. He seemed to really love Chelsea. If only he had the guts to tell her.

"Is Vi having a birthday party this year?" Cameron asked Miles in between scarfing down chips.

Miles glanced at me as if to check for a reaction. Honestly, I numb to the effect of Vivian. He then turned back to Cameron, shrugging his shoulders. "She hasn't said anything to me about it."

They went on to talk about her previous parties. Apparently, she liked to have large parties with themes. Last year was '90s themed, complete with neon pagers filled with candy. Two years ago, and the best party of all according to them, she bought out an actual theme park.

 
I wasn't one for parties, but Vivian's didn't sound like the typical high school get-togethers. They actually sounded like a lot of fun.

"If she does throw a party," Owen said, "do you think Chelsea—"

His sentence was cut short by Cameron pushing him. Owen and his chair tipped over. Lucky for him the cafeteria was too busy for many people to notice.

"It was just a question!" He groaned.