I did not return to the house until about one o'clock, and when I did, I made sure my face was neutral. Ash had already seen my hurt when he'd snapped at me earlier, but now I hoped to at least pretend I was unaffected.

Keeping my face steely, I marched up the stairs toward my breakroom. Before I reached the top of the stairs, the door to Ashton's room opened, and he stepped out. I froze on the stairs, and he froze too when he saw me.

After a moment, I tore my gaze from his and forced myself to continue up the stairs. He still hadn't moved, so I prayed for easy escape.

"Maine."

Despite the remorse in his voice, I refused to look at him. Instead, I kept on walking. I had barely stepped past him when his hand shot out, catching me by the wrist and pulling me back to face him.

"Maine." His voice was stronger this time.

"What?" I hissed, wrenching my wrist from his hold.

Taking a deep breath, he looked down at his empty hand for a second. Then, in a sober tone, he muttered, "Look. I'm—sorry, about how I acted earlier."

"You're sorry?" I repeated. "Just like you were last time?"

He winced at my words. "I'm serious, Maine."

"So am I!" I exclaimed. "You're unbelievable."

He had the nerve to ask, "How?"

I let out a breath. "This is never going to work, is it?" He said nothing, so I continued on. "How can I trust you not to keep on doing this? From the day we met, you made it quite clear you find me pathetic. I'm the 'self-righteous' girl who writes sucky suck-up papers, right?"

Now it was his turn to be frustrated. "That has nothing to do with this! Since then, have I not made it obvious I'm fond of you?"

"Fond of me?" I scoffed. "How could you be fond of someone you hate?"

That got his attention. Eyes flashing, he responded in a somewhat less controlled tone, "That isn't what this is, Maine! That's—just forget I said that, okay?"

"You never denied it," I pointed out. "You still aren't denying it."

He threw his hands up in exasperation. "What do you want from me?"

"The truth."

"Then you have the truth," he hissed. "I told you I'm sorry!"

"I'm not here for an apology," I bit back, my eyes narrowing. "I want an explanation."

Ashton stared at me in disbelief for what felt like forever, before he finally said in a dark voice, "Fine. You want to know everything? I'll tell you everything."

I waited, half-expecting him not to follow through.

"I don't hate you," he began calmly, only to turn south in seconds, "but you make me feel so pathetic! Have you ever considered how I might feel next to you? You—perfect, innocent, angelic, liked-by-everyone you. And here I am—the devil himself. Did you really think I never noticed your disgust for me? So forgive me for wanting to hate you just a little bit. Why can't I hate you?"

I stared at him, my lips parted in shock. I had nothing to say to that. I could barely even comprehend what he was saying. Ash didn't want an answer though.

He swallowed hard, before going on in a stronger voice. "Forgive me for seizing my opportunity in detention to be the one on top. I thought that'd be the end of it. I could be evil for a day, and you'd feel awful about your superiority for once in your life." My heart began to race as he took a step closer. "But then you came here," he said, laughing grimly. "You came here and I had to see you every weekend." He took another step forward so that his breath was falling on my tilted face. "Not just that. I had to see you every single day!"

Staring up at him, I felt my heart tumble in my chest. I had never imagined I'd hear such things coming from Ashton Savvonski's lips. My voice shook when I finally spoke. "If seeing me was so terrible, why didn't you do something about it?"

"There was nothing I could do!"

"Right," I muttered sarcastically, "because you had to spend all that time with me."

He grit his teeth in irritation. "You're not getting it! I tried to stop—but I just—" He let out a frustrated groan.

"What? Felt coerced? Because I asked you to be friends? Because your parents liked me?"

"No, it has nothing to do with that!"

I rolled my eyes, about done. "Just admit it already! You hate me. I get it."

"I do not hate you!" His eyes piercing mine, he advanced another step. I stumbled back a pace, knowing that if he got much closer, we would be touching. Not seeming to catch my hint, Ash moved closer still. "You're so clueless, Maine. Don't you get it? How hard is it to—?"

"No, I don't get it!" I snapped, my voice laced with disbelief. "You're not making any sense!"

"What more am I supposed to do?"

"Just be clear with me!"

"I am!" His face was far too close.

"You're not! You—"

Ashton's lips crushed mine before I could even get the words out.

What.

All I could do was stand there, my eyes squeezed shut and my hands balled into fists at my sides. While I stood completely still, his mouth moved feverishly against mine. His lips were hot, just like his breath, and I felt as if a fire were scourging from his mouth to mine. That fire spread, storming unchecked through my bloodstream until it had pervaded my whole being.

A rebellious part of me fought to stay above the flames. It screamed that this was not supposed to be happening. Ashton was not supposed to be kissing me. I was not supposed to be kissing him.

So I fought back.

Bringing my hands to his chest suddenly, I pushed him away. After I had torn my lips from his, I, in a bit of an excited panic, breathed out, "Ash, you can't—"

It was much too late.

"Shut up," Ash murmured, grasping my face in his hands and pulling me back to him.

It was only a matter of seconds before I found myself giving in. There was no point resisting anyway—not when my heart was beating so fast.

As Ashton's arms encircled my waist and pulled me closer to him, I released my mind to the flames and sank into his embrace. I had no idea what I was doing, but when Ash smiled into the kiss, I assumed I was doing something right.

It was only when a throat cleared nearby that I realized we were not alone.

Ash and I jolted apart as if we'd been electrocuted, our heads snapping in the direction of the intruders.

Mr. and Mrs. Savvonski.

They were staring at us, eyes wide, as if they'd just seen a ghost. I stared back in horror. I couldn't think of a time in my life I'd been more embarrassed than this moment right now. I'd been caught. I'd been caught kissing my boss's son—by my boss.

I was so dead. We were so dead.

"Ashton!" Pam exclaimed, her appalled voice slicing through the silence.

"Mom," Ash started, "I can explain. This—"

It was Jacob who broke in this time. "Ashton!" he said, voice raised. "Go downstairs—now!" I didn't have look at Ash to know that he was just as shocked as I.

"D—dad," he tried again, but it got him nowhere.

"Go. Downstairs. Right. Now!"

Ashton looked as if he wanted to say more, but finally he gave up and muttered, "Yes, sir." He gave me one last glance before reluctantly stepping past his parents and trudging down the stairs.

Now it was my turn. I was practically shaking in my skin by the time Pam and Jacob turned their attention to me. It wasn't just their condescending stares; it was also the kiss that Ashton had just laid on me. Was it just me, or had everything just become ten times more confusing?

Or maybe everything had become ten times clearer.

"I'm sorry, Maine." Pam's voice interrupted my thought chain. "But we're going to have to let you go."

Of course you are. I winced, although I knew I had agreed to that condition. I dropped my gaze to my hands, hardly able to look at her or her husband. I felt like a criminal. "Sorry," I murmured, trying not to do something stupid like cry. Then, without looking up, I said hurriedly, "I'll go get my stuff."

Hastily, I turned and ran into the guest bedroom. As I picked up my things, my brain fumbled to gather what was happening. I had just been fired. I had been fired from my first job. And, of all things, I'd been fired for kissing a guy. How had I let this happen?

I didn't have time to figure that out, for I was soon hurrying out of the guest bedroom and past my ex-bosses. Pam said my name, but I was far too humiliated to stop. After apologizing once more, I rushed down the stairs and shoved through the front door.

A harsh, cold wind struck me almost as soon as I stepped outside, but it was only fitting that the cold finally set in today. It was better that it was cold. I couldn't take any more heat right now.

A minute later, I was on the road, heading for home. My head was spinning, and driving was probably not the best idea, but there was no way I could have asked the Savvonskis for a ride. This would have to do.

Thankfully, I didn't crash—although I did almost run a red light—and I arrived home in one piece. The lights were off in the house, which reminded me that my parents weren't home. They had gone to visit relatives in Lansing, and they wouldn't be back until Thursday. Right now, that was both a good and bad thing—good, because I did not have to explain to them immediately why I'd been fired; bad, because I really wanted someone to talk to at the moment.

As I turned off the engine and stumbled out of the car, I muttered to the empty garage, "I guess it's better that I'm alone."

With that thought, I dragged myself to the door connecting the garage to the house. Opening it, I stepped through and flicked the lights on. My mind was just returning to Ashton, when a faint sound came from the adjoining room.

I froze, my eyes wide. Was there someone in the house? The sound of a sniffle told me there was. Who could it be? How had they gotten in? My heart began to thud in my chest as I crept toward the next room. Bringing my hands up in a position of self-defense, I peeked around the corner as carefully as possible.

What I saw made me stop short.

This was no burglar or gangster. This was my best friend. And she was crying.

Dropping my defensive stance, I quickly stepped into the room and approached her. She looked up at me for a moment from her place on the stairs, but it was only a matter of seconds before she covered her face with her hands in humiliation.

Completely forgetting any past arguments, I knelt in front of her and murmured, "Britt, what's wrong?"

She didn't respond. She only shook her head and buried her face in her knees. Instead of prying more, I sat down wordlessly next to her and put an arm around her shoulders.

Brushing my hand over her shoulder comfortingly, I whispered, "It's okay. You're okay."

She shook her head again. Turning to look me in the eye, she said through sobs, "No—it's not."

I furrowed my brow. What had happened? What in the world had happened to my best friend? "Britt, what's wrong?" I repeated my previous question.

Her tear-stained eyes blinked rapidly, and her lips quivered, but she answered nonetheless. "Josh—he cheated on me."

It didn't matter that I had anticipated the worst—it still hurt like crazy to hear Britt say the words aloud. In that moment, I felt as if I would do anything—anything at all—to make sure that Joshua Presley paid for his deeds. But even that would not bring Britt solace.

So I just hugged her, holding her as tightly as my arms would allow and patting her back supportively. Unsure what words to use, I murmured, "He's a jerk."

Another sob wracked her body. "But I liked him. I liked him since freshman year."

"I know," I muttered, wishing the right words would come. Of course they did not, but I tried to speak anyway. "He doesn't deserve someone like you, Britt."

She shook in my arms. "But he's perfect."

My heart constricted in my chest. Had she really convinced herself that Josh was perfect? He was far from that, and his actions toward her clearly proved that. "No one who cheats is perfect."

"But everything else about him is perfect," Britt countered, pulling back and lifting her head. "I know he hurt me, but he still seems so..."

Meeting her forlorn gaze, I pointed out, "Like you said, you liked him since freshman year."

She brought her hands to her face again and said through tears, "But he cheated on me! How can I still like him?"

"You can't expect yourself to get over him just like that. You've been building such a pedestal for him all these years; it's going to take more than that to knock him off it."

Sniffling, she raked a hand through her messy curls. "How could I have been so stupid?"

"Hey, it's okay. You wouldn't be the first girl to do it."

Something like amusement flashed across her face for a second. "Are you calling me common?"

I chuckled, before remembering that I was still supposed to be comforting her—something I was probably doing a horrible job of. The smile dropping from my face, I said in all seriousness, "You're not common. You just liked a common boy."

She frowned, assessing my comment for a few seconds. "So you're saying most boys are cheaters?"

"No!" I exclaimed. "No, I just meant that it might be easy for one to be a cheater. But...I'm not sure that makes any sense whatsoever." I dropped my head, embarrassed. "Sorry," I muttered, "I'm not sure I even know what I'm talking about."

Britt laughed, and it was perhaps the best sound I'd heard in weeks. It was one thing to renew my friendship with Ashton, but Britt had been my best friend since sixth grade. To hear her laughing again made my whole world feel right. Looking back up at her, I blurted, "I missed you, Britt—and I'm sorry it all went down like this."

She smiled sadly before pulling me into a hug and whispering, "I'm sorry too. I really missed you, Maine." I squeezed her back before we separated again. Britt stared at me for a moment, seeming to hesitate. "We're still friends, right?"

"Of course!" I exclaimed, a tear slipping from my own eyes. "I never wanted it any different. I just got so distracted that I didn't even notice how you felt. I'm so sorry."

She caught my allusion to our discussion about Ashton, but her reaction was not what I was expecting. "Maine," she said with a sigh, "you know you don't have to apologize for liking that Savvonski kid. You can't help it."

I raised my eyebrows in surprise. "Uh—sorry?"

Despite the sadness in her eyes, she chuckled. "It's obvious you like him. I guess I was just so jealous that I went along with whatever Josh said about him. I wanted him to be everything the rumors said about him."

I was speechless for a moment. "Then—then you don't actually think he's a druggie?"

She shook her head, but looked down, unable to meet my gaze. "I guess I was hoping Josh would turn out to be like Ashton."

"What do you mean?"

"Oh, come on. He might be a little rough around the edges, but we both know Ashton's a good guy. I've always thought so—and I think you've known deep down too."

I blushed, though I wasn't sure that was entirely true. Then, feeling bad that we were talking about Ashton after Britt had just gotten her heart broken by the dirt bag of the century, I commented, "Ash isn't the only good guy out there, Britt."

She frowned, looking down at her hands. "But he's a good guy who actually likes you."

Laughing, I stared at her until she looked up at me. "I'm absolutely positive there are good guys who like you."

Britt glared at me. "Who?"

I could hardly help myself. "What about Dave?"

She was silent for a good three seconds, before she spit out a laugh. "Right. Dave likes me—after I've done nothing but make a complete fool of myself in front of him."

"You kept your cool some of the time."

She frowned, not believing me. "No, I looked like every other desperate girl who's tried to use him to get to Josh. I'm sure he was totally impressed by that."

I shrugged. "All I'm saying is you never know. Sometimes people see things in you that you can't see, yourself. Don't worry. I'm sure Dave caught the good stuff in there."