"Things are going well with you and Thomas, aren't they?" Minho asks.

"Very," I say, but my head is too full with the thought of Mr. Leadford to properly listen. He better gets sent away. I will not survive another class of him, no matter how he acts.

He locked the door. He did it sneakily, yet I noticed. And then he came really close. Asked me to sit back down while his hand held my arm. Said he couldn't find my test, yet wanted me to have a look at it. Because it didn't go well, obviously. And he said we 'can work on it together'.

So while I texted Thomas, he found the test. Got close again, leaning over my shoulder. Touching my arms. Doing everything he could to touch my hand even a single second. Once we were done with going through the test, I jumped up. He only got closer, until I was locked in the corner. Then I froze.

Thank God I had texted Thomas. He bursted— like literally bursted— through the locked door, and the rest happened quite fast.

We went to his house. Watched a movie on the couch. That was the highlight of the day, though. My head resting on his shoulder like it was the most normal thing in the world, while my insides were burning. His hand made its way on the back of mine halfway through the movie. Things like that.

And then after that, he shocked me with the news that he's getting a sibling. Probably. Indigo isn't one hundred percent sure yet. I got very excited. He has always wanted a sibling. And I think even though it'll be a big age difference, they'll become really close.

Unfortunately, Mom called after that and demanded I got home because she didn't agree with the whole sleepover thing every time, as if we're not eighteen years old and can't decide that for ourselves.

But no, as long as I live in her house, I have to follow her rules.

"Very," Minho repeats.

"Yes." I cut through the fabric, a part of the process of making a dress. "It's going very well."

"Must be nice," he says.

"Don't victimize yourself. You did this to yourself."

"No matter what I try, she holds the grudge! She laughs at my face, do you know that? Do you know how humiliating it is?"

I pout. "I'm sure I've been humiliated a million times more than you. I'm so sorry you have to suffer from all of this, though. Shared trauma?"

"Shut up."

"I'm just saying. It's not that bad."

"Well, you're a girl—"

"No shit."

"—give me some advice."

"Not until you tell me what happened between you and Evie," I tell him sternly.

He sighs for a long time, way too dramatically. "Fine, whatever."

I spin around on my chair. Now I'm listening. In fact, I sit down on my bed beside him. "Alright. Go on."

"A while ago—"

"How long?"

"A year and a half, I think," he says. "A year and a half ago, she told me she liked me. I didn't share the feelings, so I rejected her. I barely knew her back then."

My eyebrows raise. "Okay..."

"It got awkward, until her friend group and my friend group started getting along. We talked quite a lot. I started liking her back."

"How long after her confession was this?"

"A few months. Anyway— I liked her for quite a while. I think six months ago, at a party, I confessed to her and she said she liked me back. I wasn't drunk. A little tipsy at the least."

"Mhm."

"And then I did get very drunk. And I started kissing who I thought was her except... that was not... her."

I would also be very pissed about that, yeah.

"It was her best friend," he adds.

My mouth drops open.

"And then we had a little friends with benefits thing going on. Because I'm just so amazing that she wanted that, and I figured out, 'oh, I won't ever get Evie anyway, I need distraction'."

"With her best friend?"

"Yup." He looks at down.

"But she literally told you she liked you back! Didn't you at least try?"

"No. I forgot about the whole confession because I got drunk later on," he says, as if that was obvious. "I just knew she was very angry and I needed distraction from the exact fact she wouldn't talk to me. Someone else told me about the kiss thing later."

"So first, she confesses to you and you don't like her back, then you confess and she also likes you, but then you kiss her best friend and start a whole friends-with-benefits relationship, then you stop that relationship, and now you're trying to get back at Evie, because you realize that pretty much all of the time, you wanted her and her only."

"Yes."

"But she hates you now, because you ruined her friendship and 'betrayed' her."

"Yes," he says again, sighing the word out.

I stare at him for a good few seconds. "Yeah, you're never going to get her forgiveness."

Desperate, he throws his hands in the air. "You said you'd help me!"

"I didn't know you managed to mess up that badly!" I yelp back. Then I tilt my head to the side, an idea popping up. "I've got a deal for you."

"The worst thing you could ask me for is to buy you something. Literally. You're not as manipulative as you think you are."

"Good for you then, isn't it?" I say.

He rolls his eyes. "Tell me about the deal."

"I help you at least get back in the friend zone with Evie, if not more. I will tell you what I'd want you to do or just give random advice."

"And what do I do for you?"

"You were supposed to do this already but now you have a better reason to actually do it: you're not sleeping in my room tonight. I don't care where you go, but it won't be my room."

"Why not?"

"Because Thomas and I are sleeping here."

"Didn't Mom say you're no longer allowed to do that?"

"Yes, but we've got a streak of seven days and we don't want to ruin it now. He will sneak through the window. She doesn't have to know. If she checks up on me, she will see I'm there with someone next to me, AKA you while that's actually Thomas. It'll be too dark for her to notice."

"Finn won't engage in this, I'm telling you."

I shrug. "We have another person in the house, and Mom will not check his room out at night."

Minho pauses.

"He'll agree. It's been just a little more than two weeks since he arrived. We've become closer. I think he's actually sad he doesn't have to rotate rooms with us. And he must feel bad that Finn gave him his room."

He looks at me like he just realized how much of a genius I actually am. "Okay, yes. That makes a lot of sense. I'm going to ask him right now."

Minho from two weeks ago would have never done that voluntarily.

I think a lot about him has changed the past days. Not only his friendship with Aris, but friendship and kindness with everyone. Minho will be Minho, but dropping the other friends did him good. He's less moody. And we've spent quite a lot of time together lately. Well, before the whole Mr. Keller thing. Now that time has changed into time with Thomas.

Talking about Thomas, he seems to have arrived at my window. It's open, so he climbs through before I even get up from my bed.

"Hi," he greets. "My mom thinks your mom is okay with me sleeping here so I had no problem sneaking out. Let's pray it works."

"It will for s—"

"Hi, Dahlia," Indie's voice comes from downstairs, but we hear it perfectly. "Yes, I'm about to tell you the news. Thomas just left for that ridiculous streak they're holding."

Our eyes wide. "Closet," I say. Not two seconds later, he's in there. Not three seconds later, Mom is in my room.

"What did I tell you?"

"Hm?" Innocently, I look up from my sewing machine. "Not to... sleep at Thomas's? Or have him here?"

She looks around the room, suspicious as hell. "Is he here?"

"No." I raise an eyebrow. "Why?"

"Because Indie said he just left to get here. I heard no one come in."

"Because no one did..." I say slowly, to add an effect to the lie. "Maybe he just snuck out to a party or something."

Mom gives my room another glance, then she steps away. "Alright, if you say so. Now go to sleep."

"Will do. Good night."

Thomas waits an extra minute before he gets out of the closet. "Perhaps we should take this to my house. We will get caught either way, but your mom won't start yelling in my house. Plus, I have a lock on my door."

"Sounds perfect." I grab the new purple nightgown and stick it in my pocket. Toothbrush is no longer necessary to take with me because Thomas found a closed package in his drawers.

I guess that's what's in there. Toothbrushes. Mouthwashes for when he runs out of the current one. But that's what's in the first drawer. I haven't seen the other two. Neither have I really seen the first one; the stuff for his teeth are just what I think is in there.

I look out of my window. Down there, there's nothing but grass. "How did you..."

"Skills," he says proudly.

"Yeah, no, I'm going to take the front door."

Even though that is not possible right now.

"Nope. I'll help you. Or you jump and I catch you."

With one eye squinted, I stare at him. "Sometimes I wonder how you've managed to stay alive for eighteen years."

"Same," he admits. "What if I take your hand and kind of like, lower you onto the ground, then go out myself?"

"Finn's window is right next to a really high hedge. I feel safer jumping into that than your arms. No offense. Just don't want to kill you."

"Then we do that. Aris will work along."

We sneak out of my room and into Finn's room. My heart rate went a little too fast when we passed the stairs. If Mom would take a few steps away from the kitchen and look up, she'd see us.

With deep breaths of relief, we enter Aris's room, only to find him and Minho on Finn's bed, Aris with a book in his hands and Minho with his phone.

"Woah, lovebirds. Slow the roll. Not every room is free," Minho mutters. I swear he didn't even have to look up to know who we are.

"We need to climb out of this window. Don't ask any questions."

Minho now does look up, straight at Thomas. "You need to get away from us so we won't hear the whines after all?"

I frown as I turn to Thomas as well. "Whines?"

"Minho has too much fantasy," is all he replies, his Adam's apple bobbling. I low-key have the urge to touch that thing— okay that was weird.

"Let's go, Sage." He opens the window. Jumps out just like that, half into the hedge. For a while, all I hear is... nothing.

"Are you dead?" Minho asks. His eyes are on his phone and his ass is on the bed. I don't think he really cares about this whole situation.

"No," Thomas groans from a short distance. "Just forgot hedges also include branches. I landed in the wrong position and I think I just robbed myself from Father's Day."

Oh my God. I can exactly imagine his face when he landed on his crotch. Him biting his hand to hold down a scream and then pressing his lips together to act like it doesn't hurt at all.

"But you can go now, Sage," he announces.

I walk over to the window. The ground is way further down than I expected. I can't even reach the hedge from the window, which means a few seconds of my jump will be pure falling.

"Uhm," I say. "How am I supposed to do this?"

Thomas manages to climb up the hedge—I don't know how that is possible and I don't know why it looks like he's done it many times before—and holds out his hand for me to take.

Sometimes I really hate needing help for things like this.

Sometimes I also really like it because it means I can cling to certain people.

Sometimes it's both, like right now.

My hand does shake a bit as I take his. Slowly, every part of me gets out of the window and into the cool night air. Thomas tells me to put one of my feet on a thick branch for more support.

One of his arms is wrapped around my waist, so tightly that if I would fall, I would immediately pull him with, and the other way around. His other arm is stretched out so his hand is flat against the side of the house. That one single arm is the thing that keeps us stable.

"Okay," his words come with hot breaths against my neck, sending butterflies everywhere. "Start taking steps down the hedge. I'll try to keep holding you. If not possible, just keep climbing."

I nod firmly, even though I'm honestly scared. Just three steps and you're low enough to jump off, I tell myself, and I listen. I take one step, grip tightening on Thomas like my life depends on it. Then I'm going too low to hold onto him, and I'm on my own.

"No, no— don't jump," he says once he sees my expression. "Just keep climbing."

"I'm not even ten feet away from the ground. It's like jumping off a box."

"Still. More chances of hurting yourself. We don't want that to happen."

Without any other protests, because the way he said 'we don't want that to happen' just made me fall silent, I climb until my feet hit the ground safely.

Thomas then climbs down a thousand times faster than me, and he does make a jump.

"Unfair," I say.

He shrugs. I guess there is no good excuse.

Quickly, the two of us cross the road. Thomas lets us inside. Dan is asleep in front of the TV, so we are safe. And very safe once he has locked the door of his bedroom.

I exhale, solace hitting me. "That went well. Now we hope they don't ground us for life."

He nods in agreement, sitting down on his bed. "Yup."

I look around. His room is dimly lit. The only light comes from his nightstand, and neither of us fix that.

"So... what now?" I ask, suddenly nervous and uncertain.

"We can just relax, I guess." He pats the space beside him on his bed. His clock says it's around eleven PM. We should probably go to sleep, but I know we won't immediately do that.

I sit down beside him. The bed dips slightly under our weight combined, bringing us closer. Our shoulders brush.

"Are you okay?" He asks, almost whispering. "After what happened at school?"

This is like the fifth time he asks and I don't mind at all. "Yeah," I whisper back. My eyes go down to my hands. "I'm okay. Are you?"

"You're okay, I'm okay."

"No, but for real. You're okay?"

"Yes." A small smile forms on his face as he shifts. His knee touches mine. Another touch so brief but still manages to make my pulse race.

I blink a few times; it proves we've been staring at each other for way too long. But I can't help it. His eyes, especially glowing a bit because of the yellow light, are so amazing. A deep brown color. Dozens of things hidden behind them.

"How's the new PE teacher?" I whisper.

"Horrible," he whispers. "How did Latin go?"

"Latin?" I feel myself smile. He has never had big interest in Latin. "It was fine. Nothing special."

"Science obviously wasn't nice. What about arts?"

I blink, recalling as much memories of the class as possible. It's hard doing that while staring at him, our faces so close I can feel his breaths. I can see the reflection of my face in his eyes. It's a bit flushed. Like I'm out of breath. I think I actually am.

"It was alright," I say.

I sketched on my canvas. I'll be attempting to paint a mango with a blue background.

That was the first and only thing my mind drifted to. Thomas. Thomas, Thomas, Thomas, every second of the period. Almost every period I had today. And if not Thomas, then Steph, Steph, Steph.

"And math?" He adds, voice still lowered.

"Horrible, as always. You were answering a lot of questions today, though," I whisper. My eyes are so big right now. They want to take in every single detail of his face. Every mole, every tint, every shape. I can't take my eyes off.

But he keeps staring back, so it's okay. His eyes are big, too. That makes my heart make little jumps of happiness. "Yes," he whispers. "I like maths."

"I know you do." My smile brightens. "And I don't."

He also smiles a bit. "I know you don't."

"And how was history?" I whisper.

"Boring," he whispers.

"Geography?"

"Always repetitive." His fingers start caressing the back of my hand. Before I know it, his whole hand is on mine. It happens so fast that I'd swear our hands are magnets.

All those tiny little sparks I feel when I'm close to him go easily with that. The sparks just pull my body closer to his.

He starts leaning to the side. So do I. And then we keep doing it until our heads touch the same pillow, and we're lying quite normally on his bed, just super close and our daily clothes still on.

"Good night," I whisper. My eyes stay open, though. I'm struck by everything right now.

Indigo and Dan put all the good genes into Thomas. No way they left something for that sibling. And even if they did, nothing, literally no one, will change the fact he is the most beautiful human I have ever seen.

Not just his looks. Also his personality. Everything at once. So much that it's almost overwhelming to look at. Takes my breath away, you know?

"Good night," he whispers back, but his eyes also don't close.