When Bee told me Nolan was in the weight room with his "friends" I thought she was just trying to be funny. That was until I peeked into the small room filled with workout equipment and sweaty members of the soccer team.

Nolan's back was to me as he did chin ups. Shirtless. The muscles in his back and arms worked hard to pull his weight above the metal bar. I had to remind myself that we were on school grounds and that, no matter how hot he looked, jumping him in front of our peers wouldn't be a wise choice.

One of our peers, Gerald or Jeremy or whatever, caught me staring and started counting just as Nolan struggled to pull himself up one last time. "998, 999, 1,000!"

Nolan didn't miss a beat, finding the strength to pump out three more chin ups before dropping to his feet. The guy tossed him a towel and hyped him up about breaking a record.

"Jade?" The fake surprise on his face made me roll my eyes despite the smile tugging at my lips. "When'd you get here?"

"Somewhere around five hundred." I played along as he slipped his shirt back on. "So, this is where you've been hiding all week?"

His brows pulled together. "Hiding?"

"It's been hard getting a hold of you after school lately."

"It's your own fault," he accused as he gathered his backpack and my hand, leading us out of the musty weight room. "You're the one who banned me from your house so you could focus on the painting."

"No, that was your fault for being annoying." Before Nolan I didn't know there was such a thing as backseat painting.

Is that the right color for my hair?

I'm not that pale.

Are my eyebrows really that bushy?

If he kept up with the complaints the painting would've never gotten done before the deadline and I wasn't about to forfeit our spot over a painting. But I've missed him hovering over my shoulder those last few days.

"I finished it by the way," I told him as we headed for the parking lot to his motorcycle.

Even though I had my own car I still got rides from Bee. Gia recently joined our car pool as well. The two of them were more than happy to have the car to themselves that day.

"Just need to add in some finishing touches. Now, maybe Opal will stop hounding me for it."

He passed me the helmet. "Do I get to see it before you turn it in?"

"Yes," I said cautiously, slipping the helmet over my twist out. "But I'm not making any changes."

"Unless I ask nicely?"

I smacked his arm, giggling. "At all."

We climbed onto his bike and I held on tightly to his waist as he pulled off of school grounds.

* * *

If Mom knew Nolan was upstairs, let alone on my bed, I'd be on punishment until graduation. Possibly my college graduation.

I sat next to him, the painting still propped up on the easel, and examined it. Well, Nolan examined it while I examined him. The way his head was slightly tilted, the square set of his jaw, the way his golden eyes seemed to take in every brush stroke. I've never been to the Louvre, but I couldn't imagine any of the art in there making me feel what I felt when I looked at him.

"You're good." He slowly pulled his gaze away from the painting, turning to me. "Really good. I mean, I kind of knew that already, but holy shit." He looked at the painting again.

The admiration in his voice caused heat to flood my cheeks. "Thanks."

"And you're going to school for business?" His eyes were on me again, mine fell on the painting.

We had that conversation before. Naturally, Nolan was all for chasing the impossible dream, the ones that would take you to new places and gave you the freedom to come and go at will. But me and my practical brain couldn't see art as a career, just a hobby that kept me sane.

"Please tell me you applied to at least one art school or program. Like that one school, RISD." The youth-like way his eyes sparkled was infectious, but not enough.

"You do know that the RI in RISD stands for Rhode Island, right? As in on the other side of the country."

"You say that like it's a bad thing." His tone turned somber, serious, as his gaze shifted back to the painting. "If I had your talent I'd use it to snatch up every opportunity to leave Bellcreek." Something clouded over his face in the silence that followed. There was a sadness in his eyes I hated to see.

"Hey." I touched his arm, bringing his attention back to me. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," he replied quickly, tugging a hand through his hair as he stood from my bed. He leaned in, examining the painting more closely. "How exactly did you learn to paint like this?"

I wasn't going to let him change the subject. "Nolan." I took his hand, pulling him back to the bed, to me. "Talk to me."

He focused on our intertwined fingers for a moment before speaking, his voice barely a whisper. "She's getting worst."

It took me no time to conclude that 'she' meant his mom. Alison. Was that why he'd been over here so often? Why he'd been hanging in the weight room instead of going home after school?

I still remembered the night she held my hand and thanked me for bringing her son back to her. Now he was avoiding her again. He should be with her, especially now. I couldn't find it in me to try and convince him of that. Something told me he knew where he should've been, he wasn't ready.

"She was excited about prom and graduation. She made me excited for it," he admitted. "Now they say she might not—"  He roughly ran his free hand over his face as if he could erase the thoughts from his head.

He couldn't bring himself to say the words out loud. It was hard for me to even think them. I had only known her for a short time, but a piece of her managed to lodge itself into my heart. She was never without a smile, even though her body was failing. She made it her mission to make sure the people around her focused on the positives, the good things no matter how insignificant they might've seemed. My eyes stung at the thought of her no longer being there.

Unsure of what to say, I laid back onto my bed, pulling him with me. He didn't object to putting his head on my chest, to being held. Sometimes that's all a person needed.

* * *

As hard as I tried not to, I must've dozed off. The sun was setting, filling my room with shadows. Nolan was still nestled in my arms, still asleep.

For a moment I thought Mom hadn't come home yet, then I heard her telling Taylor not to touch something. When my baby sister started to wail, Nolan stirred.

"Hey," I whispered.

He responded with a grunt, being the heavy sleeper he was. When I mentioned my mom was home he bolted up.

"I should go," he said, slipping his Converse back on.

"Go where?"

The answer was in the silence as he tied his laces. He wasn't going home.

"Nolan," I said, keeping my voice low and even. "You can't shut her out again. Especially not now."

He stood, pausing to take one more look at the painting of us, a slightly altered version of our photo booth kiss. This one was less blurry, the kiss more intentional than the original.

"I know." His eyes were on focused on his shoes. "I know this is worse for her than it is for me. She's the one in pain, she's the one who's going to miss out on stuff. I know it's selfish, but I don't want to see her. Not like this."

I climbed out of bed, standing before him. His gaze landed on me. I could see the sadness in his eyes, the fear. I felt it in the deepest parts of me. If there was a way to fix it, some magic words to say, I'd use them in a heartbeat. For now all I had was the truth.

"I know you're scared, but if you don't talk to her now you'll regret it."

His lips twitched with words unspoken. He leaned down, leaving a kiss at my temple. "I'll talk to you tomorrow."

As unlikely as it was, I hopped he was heading home.