When Mom found out about Miles and I being official she was happy. More than happy. She was practically setting a wedding date. Excted that I was, in her words, acting like a normal teenager.

As thrilled as she was, she did have one rule: No boyfriends in the house while she was away. That rule had been broken three times that week. Four if you count the time Miles was there while Mom was blissfully unaware as she binged her favorite soap operas down in the living room.

I didn't like going behind her back and lying to her. I also didn't like the fact that Miles's only other alternative to sleeping in my closest—it was the only place he wouldn't get caught—was sleeping in his car.

It was now December and the temperature was steadily dropping. I'd rather risk Mom's wrath than wake up to news that my boyfriend died a frozen Popsicle.

"What'd you get for number eight?" Miles asked, from his spot on my bed.

He laid on his stomach on top of my dark blue comforter, chewing the end of his pencil. His brow furrowed as he concentrated on the math problem in front of him. The harder he concentrated, the cuter he got.

"Staring at me again, Mermaid?" He looked up, a smirk gracing his face.

I rolled my eyes, refusing to admit that I'd been checking him out. His ego didn't need any more stroking.

"I'm still stuck on number seven," I answered, glancing down at the poorly erased answer that I realized was wrong after double checking the math.

"I skipped that one," he admitted, letting out a sigh. "I think we both need Cam's tutoring."

"True." Unfortunately, today he was teaching Physics. A subject I miraculously passed. Maybe it was because the teacher just made us watch re-runs of CSI most days.

Miles pulled out his phone and from the periodic glances at the worksheet in front of him I guessed that he was texting Cameron for answers.

"It's 4:34," I pointed out. "Tutoring is in session. Which means his phone is off and you won't get a reply until 5."

"Then we'll need to do something to pass the time." He wore a sly smile as he rolled into a sitting position on the edge of the bed, pulling the desk chair I sat in closer to him.

I leaned in, kissing him and suddenly math formulas didn't matter. It was easy to forget about the rest of the world when I was with him.

My bliss filled bubble popped when I heard the front door shut. Miles and I broke apart, staying as still as statues as we listened.

Mom wasn't supposed to be home yet. Maybe she forgot her wallet or something and would be leaving again soon.

"Loren," she called out, her voice muffled by my closed door.

"You can't be here," I whispered in a panic.

"There was a package for you on the porch." Her voice was getting closer as she ascended the stairs.

Miles rushed over to the window, getting ready to climb out. There was no time for that, she'd see him before he was out of view.

I yanked back over to the closet and pushed him in. As soon as I slid the closet door shut my bedroom door opened.

"I think it's from Beauteen," she said, too busy with her nose in my now opened package to look up.

Good thing too. I'm sure she would've seen the guilt on my face.

"Opening other peoples mail is a felony," I said, sitting back down in my desk chair.

"My address, my mail." She sat on my bed, where Miles' worksheet and phone still were. Luckily she was too busy going through the contents of the medium sized box to notice.

"It's probably the official entry form for the contest," I told her.

Victoria mentioned that I'd be receiving one since I was a last-minute entry. Mom pulled out the document, a purple tote bag dawning the Beauteen logo, and booklet with information about the Beauteen headquarters.

The top three contestants would get to tour headquarters and rub elbows with the higher ups. I'd be lying if I said I didn't want to check it out.

"It says you have to turn in your entry by the eighth," she read from the entry form, then glanced around the room. "Where is the dress?"

"It's..." In the closet next to the boy who wasn't supposed to be there. "In the garage. If I kept it in here I'd feel the urge to change it again."

She was silent and for a moment she just stared at me. It was almost like looking into a mirror. She was darker, her eyes smaller, but everything else was the same. Especially in photos of her when she was my age.

Her lips parted into a wide grin; the Proud Mama grin. It had been a while, but I still recognized it.

"You've changed so much these past few months," she said, reaching out to take my hand in hers.

It took a lot in me not to cringe at the fact that this mother-daughter moment had a secret guest listening in.

"For the better," she added. "And since you're in a better place, emotionally, I think talk about your dad."

"Why?" I glanced at the closet door. Suddenly, her mushy I'm-So-Proud-Of-You speeches didn't seem so bad. A conversation about the birds and the bees would be better than this.

"I think it'd be good," she continued, "for the both of us. Especially with your birthdays coming up."

The last few years I spent December 27th alone in my room with my music. My dad and I shared a birthday which was fun until the accident - his accident that altered his personality.

Every year Dad and I would get up at midnight, make hot cocoa and watch The Perfect Holiday with Gabrielle Union and Morris Chestnut.

After he had his brain scrambled the tradition stopped and never watched The Perfect Holiday again. It sucked at first, but I got over it. I made a new tradition out of being alone on my birthday. A tradition that couldn't be ruined by the absence of another person.

"Maybe you'd like to visit his—"

"No." I didn't go the day of his funeral, I wasn't going to go now.

Mom sighed, a frown on her face. "That resentment you hold in your heart for him is not healthy. You have to forgive. Not for him, but for yourself."

How could she suggest that so casually? How could she expect me to forgive him after the living nightmare he turned my life into?

"Loren," she said now, "You have to—"

I wasn't having this talk with her. "There's a boy in my closet."

"What?"

That successfully derailed the conversation. She got up and slid the closet door open to reveal a sheepish looking Miles.

"Hi," he said, laughing awkwardly.

Mom turned to me, her eyes burned into my soul. She didn't take them off of as she ordered Miles to leave.

He gathered his things and flashed me a look that said "good luck" before he left. 

I was going to need it.

+ + +

"How bad was it?" Miles asked as made our way to the cafeteria.

Mom spent a good chunk of the night lecturing me about lies and boys. It had been so long since she really yelled at me. It was weirdly refreshing. She was no longer treating me like a fragile little girl.

One thing I could've lived without was the punishment. Specifically the no seeing Miles part. The only time I'd have with him would be at school, which wasn't much considering we only had one period together. Two if you counted lunch.

"Well, I'm still in one piece," I replied. "But you've been banned from my house for the next couple of weeks."

"Are you still allowed to go to Vivian's party?"

I shot him a look. "That's what you're worried about? Where are you going to sleep?"

"I'll figure it out," he shrugged.

"Why not go home?" My suggestion earned a scoff. "I know your dad is difficult, but it's better than sleeping in your car."

He remained silent as he nodded at a tall, blond guy that walked by. He probably wanted to escape from my questions.

"Okay," I said, getting the hint. "Forgot that the dad topic was off limits."

"It's not that I don't want to talk to you about it," he said. "I just don't want to talk to you about it."

My brow creased. "What?"

He took my hand and pulled me into an empty bio lab. He took a seat on one of the stools before explaining himself.

"I can't complain to you about my dad when yours is...gone."

I guess that made sense.

"I basically ran away from home because my dad didn't show up to football games," he laughed dryly, dragging a hand through his hair. "It sounds so stupid."

"It's not," I assured him. "It's to normal to want your dad's approval."

"That's the thing, he's not my dad."

His leg started bouncing. I realized it only does that when something was really bothering him.

"It's like once that secret was out, a switch flipped. Dad mode off."

I knew exactly what he meant by that. Miles dad wasn't a complete loss, though. His personality change wasn't caused by an injury, but by grief. There was hope that his "dad mode" could be turned on again.

"You should tell him how you feel," I said.

"I don't think talking is going to solve anything."

Funny that only a few weeks ago I felt the same way—still do to some degree—and now I'm encouraging someone else to try it.

"Maybe not," I said to him. "But it'll help."

"I'll do it," he agreed, wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling me close. "Under one condition: Talk to your mom about your dad."

I began to think that he grabbed onto me to trap me there.

"That's not the same thing." I tried to back away, but he held me in place.

"We both have daddy issues we need to address," he said. "To get closure, or whatever."

Maybe he had a point. That didn't mean I was ready to dig up all those old feelings. Those eyes though, they could get me to agree to rob a bank. Besides, it would just be a heart to heart with my mom. Not some stranger or room full of grieving teens.

"Deal."