"I like the strappy silver heels."

"Good. Me, too." I toss the shiny black heels into the closet and start to slip on the winning choice.

"Then why did you ask?"

"Just making sure you haven't gone senile yet."

"I don't think I saw that in the manual either." She pats at her jean pockets and looks around.

"Saw what?" I play along.

"The part where your teenage daughter is supposed to turn into a snarky brat."

"Ooh! Good one, Mom." I smile and walk to my bedroom door. "Next time, throw in a hormonal jerk or ungrateful teenager. Or better yet, bring up those grey hairs you claim I gave you that no one but you sees."

"Noted. I'll work on my witty banter while you're gone," she says and hits my b.u.t.t as I leave the room.

"Just save them for Luka-something tells me she'll need them."

The doorbell rings and Mom runs ahead of me downstairs to greet Haden. I make one last stop by the bathroom to check my makeup and apply another spritz of hairspray.

I hear Mom gushing downstairs and I can't help but laugh at poor Haden's expense. He hates attention-we all know it-so I think Mom is laying it on thick for that reason alone.

I take a few steps and stop to listen to the conversation.

"Laila didn't tell us much other than you are showing some of your work at the gallery tonight," Mom reveals, clearly fishing for details.

"Yes ma'am," he says in his sweetest voice. "Don't be too mad at her, she doesn't know much about it either. I just told everyone a couple of weeks ago. Stefon liked what he saw this summer and gave me a room to showcase my artwork."

"Your mom must be proud," she adds.

"She really wants to go see it, but she's been working evenings lately and when she's off-she's...she's tired. She hopes she'll get to come by before it closes next week," he says.

It's unfortunate that she may not be able to see his first gallery show, because it would mean so much to him. When his dad pa.s.sed at the end of eighth grade, his mom had to take on extra shifts at the hospital to make ends meet and Haden had to step up at home. He grew up quicker than the rest of us-everyone noticed.

I finally take the steps to meet him in the living room and do my best to balance on the extra three inches of height added by way of my heels. A dress and heels-what was I thinking?

My breath catches when I spot Haden looking so grown up. His black hair is brushed and styled to look like one of those models in the magazines. The black suit fits him perfectly, with a simple skinny tie around his neck. He looks like Haden, but not.

I clear my throat and wait to get his attention before stepping off the last stair and placing my hands on my hips. Haden stands there with a blank look on his face and I'm instantly self-conscious until he smiles.

"You-I mean-you look..." He pauses and shakes his head and clears his throat. "You clean up nice, Nixon." He holds his arms out for my inspection and I see the telltale signs of my Haden buried beneath the sleeves-the four black bracelets on his left wrist.

"Wow, Searle," I marvel. "So do you."

"Oh good grief!" Mom laughs. "Will you two stop with the last names? It's not as cool as you think it is."

"Good," Haden says. "We don't want to be cool. Do we, Nixon?"

"Nope. Never, Searle," I laugh.

"Mission accomplished," Dad laughs before he walks over to give me a hug.

Mom rolls her eyes and snickers. "Okay, you better go before you're late."

"You look beautiful, honey," Dad says. He kisses my temple and shakes Haden's hand. "Good luck tonight, Haden."

"Thanks, Mr. Nixon."

Haden sticks out his elbow for me to take ahold of as we walk out, but we are stopped.

"Haden," Luka yells as she runs down the stairs.

He stops to face the little heathen and she has something in her hands. He squats down to her level and she stops in front of him.

"I got this for you." She holds up a pink bracelet, similar to his black ones, and smiles.

"For me?" He grins. "Can you put it on me?"

Her cheeks turn red and I roll my eyes. "Hurry up, Luka. Haden has to go."

"Chill out, Nixon." He looks up at me and narrows his eyes before looking back to the puffy-cheeked kid. "It's not every day a cute girl gives me a bracelet."

"Hey," I start to argue, when I realize what an idiot I sound like for being p.i.s.sed about a compliment one of my best friends pays to a five-year-old.

Haden touches the bracelet, pulls her in for a big hug, and blows a raspberry on her neck. She starts laughing so hard that I can't help but laugh, too.

"We gotta go," he says to her. "But thank you for this. I love it."

"Love you, Haden," she practically sings.

"Love you, too, kiddo."

We are about to step out the front door when we are stopped again, this time by my mom.

"Lemme get a quick picture with my phone," she says as she holds the device out in front of her.

"Are you kidding me?" I ask, rolling my eyes and smiling.

Yeah, might as well because this won't happen again.

"Hey, I don't remember the last time I saw you in a dress, so hush and let me take the picture," she orders, and then mutters to Dad, "not sure when we'll see this again."

Can she read my mind?

"Haden, get closer." She waves him until he's standing right next to me.

"I won't bite, Searle," I tease with a smile.

He gives me a smirk and wraps his arm around my waist before he pulls me into him. I try to give him a teasing glare, but he playfully jabs at my side causing me to squirm.

"Okay, before I have to take him down, did you get the shot?" I finally ask before reaching for the doork.n.o.b.

"Got it. You two have fun." She smiles again.

"Goodnight," I say, closing the door behind me.

We walk down the steps and Haden runs ahead to get the pa.s.senger door. The guys hold doors open for me but they never open car doors, pull out chairs, or anything like that, so the gesture catches me off guard.

"Thank you," I stammer weakly, thankful it's dark out so he doesn't see my embarra.s.sment as I slide onto the dark leather bucket seat of his slate gray GTO.

There's something about these old cars and the way I feel in them that makes me giddy. The only thing that he's done to this car is the paint job; everything else is original, and I love that he's left it alone. It belonged to his dad, and his mom gave it to him as a gift over the summer to get to and from work. Perhaps that's why he's left it mostly untouched-as homage to his dad.

He walks around to the driver's side, slips into the car, and shuts the door. I glance over as he slips the key into the ignition but he sits back before he turns the engine over.

"Everything okay?" I ask as I c.o.c.k my head to the side.

He runs his hand through his hair and rests his head back on the seat.

"If I make you that nervous, I'll go with the guys when you give us the okay." I don't want to ruin his night or make him nervous. This is a big deal.

"It's not that. It's just, well, I need to warn you about the showing. Stefon's work is a little weird-some critics have really ripped it up."

"I'm sure I can handle it," I defend. It's funny he feels the need to mention it, considering everything he and the others have exposed me to over the years.

"I won't be able to show you around when we get there, so you'll be on your own." He looks concerned when he finally looks at me.

"You're kidding me, right?"

"What?"

"I'm pretty sure I can handle being on my own, Haden. I'm not a kid."

"I know, I just feel bad, and I'm not sure what you'll think of my stuff."

"This is your night, I'm going to support my best friend, so whatever you need, just say the word. Okay?"

"All right," he agrees, finally turning the ignition.

The car roars to life and a surge of excitement runs through me as we back down the driveway.

"So tell me about your artwork. I've seen the abstracts you did for art cla.s.s last year-how is this stuff different?"

"Stefon encouraged me to step out of my comfort zone, to try new things. So this is much more personal, I guess that's why I don't want the guys to see it-or you, for that matter."

"Haden-" I start to tell him something but he cuts me off.

"No, that came out wrong-I do want you to see it, I'm just nervous about what you'll think."

"Your stuff in the past wasn't personal?"

"Not the things I did for cla.s.s. I've never had a problem sketching or painting things at home. I have a stash of work in folders that I've never shown anyone, so that part was easy. It's sharing it with the world that I'm not sure I'm ready for."

"Are these paintings?"

"Do you not want to go to the gallery?" he teases.

"Oh, I'm going. I just mean, what type of-stuff-did you use?"

"My medium?" he corrects with a crooked smile.

"Yeah."

d.a.m.n that smile.

"Some are charcoal, others are oil-based, and I have two that are watercolor."

"That's really cool. I'm so proud of you, Haden."

"You might not feel that way after tonight," he warns, and my stomach knots at his words.

I know that there are things he's kept from us, and I knew that he'd reveal them in his time.

Maybe tonight is the night.

He pulls into a parking lot and finds a spot, but lets the engine run while a song plays over the radio. He stares toward the entrance and his leg begins to bob up and down nervously and I smile.

"Searle," I pause and wait for him to look at me, "you have nothing to be nervous about! And if you need me, I'm here."

He turns away and leans against the headrest again, staring at the ceiling. I want so badly to ease his fears.

It's going to be okay.

I'm waiting for a response and he knows it, but he chooses to remain quiet and I give him time to think. My phone is in my clutch and I feel it vibrate, but I ignore it for now in hopes that he'll finally relax.

"There are things that only a few people know. When you go in there tonight, you'll know everything about me." He exhales as he rolls his shoulders back and finally looks at me.

"And I'll still love you, Searle," I remind him, because there's nothing he could do to change that.

"I hope you can handle it," he says, and I can tell he's really worried.

"Then what are we waiting for?" I ask, opening my car door. I slam it shut and move to the sidewalk while I wait for him to join me. When he's finally in front of me, he looks so unsure and sweet with his hands stuffed into his front pockets. I sweep his hair out of his face and give him a wink. "You've got this."

"Thanks for being here tonight." He smiles and sticks out his arm to escort me into the building and I nod. Just before we reach the door, he drops his arm and takes my hand in his. "You look good in yellow."

I can feel my cheeks flush and I hate it. The guys rarely compliment me, and when they do, I can't help but get awkward. I squeeze his hand and follow him through the entrance where a crowd of people mill around the gallery looking at the artwork on display.

"Haden," a skinny man, in equally skinny black pants yells as he rushes over. Haden hasn't told me much about Stefon, but the geek-chic gla.s.ses, t.i.tanium-colored hair, and bright pink b.u.t.ton-down under the checkered coat tell me this is he. When the man is closer, he gives me a quick glance but returns his attention to my friend. "Where have you been? People have been waiting to meet you."