"You sure?"

"Yep," he answers, smiling at me. "Right now, all I really want is to talk to you."

"So, how'd you like s...o...b..arding?" I ask, smiling back at him and trying my hardest to be someone worth talking to.

He bursts out laughing and groans.

"Have you ever, in your entire life, seen a s...o...b..arder as bad as me?" he asks.

"You weren't that bad!" I protest. "Once you got your weight forward, you were really pretty good."

"Flattery or not, my answer's the same: I loved it," he gushes. "I'm sore in places I didn't know existed, but it was totally worth it!"

For some reason, I'm excited that he enjoyed it. It's one of the few ways I've found that I can get outside my sh.e.l.l and be free from my fears. I like the idea of someone else enjoying it with me-someone I can trust not to steal my last safe thing away from me.

The restaurant's proprietor returns with an enormous array of tantalizingly delicious-looking sushi, winks at me as she puts it down on the table, and then disappears again. I still have one burning question that I need to ask, but it can wait for a bit while I stuff my face.

Seven or eight pieces later, I'm ready to talk again. G.o.d, I love sushi.

"Umm... Owen?"

He loses control of his chopsticks as he looks up at me, and the tuna roll slips away and plops back down onto his plate.

I take a deep breath.

"I... well, thanks for helping me when we were s...o...b..arding, but... why?"

"Why what?" he asks, looking confused.

"Why did you help me?"

"I... what? When did I help you? I don't understand," he answers, shrugging awkwardly. He has no idea what I'm talking about, does he?

"On our last run, when that guy started bothering me. Remember?"

His eyes light up as he figures out what I'm talking about.

"Maria, if there's one thing I hate more than anything else, it's a bully. I... well, I dealt with them a lot when I was a kid, and it left a really bad taste in my mouth."

I smile at him and he looks down at his plate before continuing.

"I don't want you to feel like you owe me or that you have to be grateful or anything, okay?" he tells me. His gray eyes are wide and honest as he looks back up at me, and I believe every word he's saying. "I mean it. I knocked that guy on his a.s.s because I hate seeing people get bullied."

"Thank you," I whisper.

His phone starts ringing again and interrupts the moment. He checks the caller ID and groans.

"I'm sorry. I'll be right back," he apologizes, and he gets up from the table and heads to the lobby to take the call.

I watch from the table as he paces back and forth in the lobby, and I can still catch bits and pieces of the conversation. It's his mother.

"No, I'm not coming home for spring break. Yeah, I said I would but I have too much work to do."

He lowers his voice, and most of his argument is too quiet for me to hear.

"No. I'm sorry, Mom," he finishes, and he hangs up the phone. His face is dark and angry as he comes back to the table again.

"Was that your mom?" I ask, and he nods in reply.

"Yeah, it was her again," he answers tersely, almost as if rebuffing my interest in him, and I look silently down at my plate.

"I'm sorry... that was really rude of me," he apologizes after a long silence. "She wants me to come home for spring break."

"Are you going?"

He shakes his head.

"Why not?" I ask. I don't go home either. I don't talk to my parents very much anymore, and I haven't talked to Micah in years. It just doesn't work anymore, and it's best I stay away.

"I just... well..."

The phone rings again, and I catch his angry glare as he shuts it off. It must have been his mother again.

"Maria... I just can't," he answers, looking just as awkward as I usually feel. "My family and I don't get along anymore."

His fists are clenched so tightly that his knuckles are white, and one of his wooden chopsticks snaps in half. He's so tense that he's trembling.

"Are you alright? What's wrong?"

"I'm okay," he says, swallowing hard. His lie doesn't fool me for even a second.

He's hiding something just like I am, and I've never been so excited to be lied to before.

It's dark outside when Owen and I finally part ways. He heads back up to campus to study in the engineering library, and I practically skip the entire way back to the west campus bridge where Tina waits for me. She promised she'd meet me halfway home.

I don't know what happened during dinner, but somehow I feel different now. I'm proud of myself for going out with Owen and I'm almost bouncing with excitement that I've met someone who I might be able to trust. I'm still not sure yet, but I have a good feeling about him.

"Well look who's all bubbly now! Looks like someone had a great night!" exclaims Tina, running up to me and laughing as I hug her tightly.

I nod excitedly back to her, and we walk back down the hill toward our apartment together.

"So tell me! How'd it go?"

"We ate sushi, and I talked to him!" I gush happily, and she laughs. Her breath crystallizes in the air and trails off behind us into the freezing night as we walk down the long staircase to our apartment.

"No, really! I talked to him the whole night, and once I got started, it wasn't even awkward!"

This is huge to me, and Tina knows it. This is the biggest step I've taken in seven years.

Just last semester, I would have been paralyzed with fear even trying to talk to him. I remember how terrible I felt just handing in my test to him two weeks ago!

A wave of heat washes over me as Tina opens the front door. In the blink of an eye-plus or minus some time for coats and shoes-I'm out of the cold and onto the couch with a steaming mug of hot cocoa. Tina takes a few minutes longer because she goes to get into her pajamas, and then-decked out in a pink robe and her intentionally flamboyant bunny slippers-she joins me on the couch with her favorite mug.

I sip my cocoa in silence, savoring both the chocolatey warmth coursing through my body and Tina's impatient glare. One sip... two sips...

"Mmm..."

"Oh come on, Maria!" whines Tina, bouncing up and down on the couch like a toddler.

"Hey, careful! You're going to spill my cocoa!"

"I'm gonna pour it on your head if you don't tell me how your date went," she counters, giving me the eye. I love every second of her impatience. It's not every day I get a chance to torture her like this!

"Oh come on, it wasn't a date!"

I take another long sip and then put down my mug. The little blue penguin on the side waves happily up at me like he always does. I love my penguin mug.

"You went out to dinner with a guy, had sushi, and talked for the whole night, right?"

I nod.

"Who paid?"

I don't remember. Wow. I don't think I even saw the bill!

"Umm... I guess Owen did."

Tina rolls her eyes at me and takes a sip of her cocoa. Her splotchy clay mug is the only non-pink thing on her half of the sofa right now.

"So you went out to dinner with a guy, talked all night, and then he paid the bill?"

"Yeah, so what?"

"Grown-ups call that a date, sweetie!"

I sigh as I shake my head, and she laughs and tosses me a marshmallow. It makes a satisfying 'plop' as I drop it into my cocoa.

"Okay... date or no date," she continues, "I hope you had fun, at least."

"You have no idea!" I gush exuberantly. "It was the best night I can remember, Tina. I feel... oh, I don't even know what to say! I'm excited and happy... it was all so wonderful!"

I feel like my words aren't strong enough to describe the nearly overwhelming happiness coursing through me, but I don't know how to describe what I'm feeling. I feel like I'm alive again.

"So do you like him?"

"No!" I answer so forcefully that I surprise even myself. From Tina's bemused grin, I can only a.s.sume that I've got a terribly confused look on my face, and it probably matches what I'm feeling in my heart right now.

"You sure about that?"

"...no," I answer weakly, shaking my head. "I don't know what I think."

"But you're happy?"

My smile spreads from ear to ear as I nod enthusiastically. 'Happy' doesn't even come close.

Wednesday, February 27 10:30 PM.

Owen.

I stare up at the ceiling fan as I lay on the floor of the living room. Its blades go around and around just like the thoughts circling inside my head.

"Wow," I whisper.

What a night. What an amazing night! I can still hear Maria's voice in my mind, telling me how scared she was that she wouldn't go out with me tonight. Craig thinks I'm insane for sticking by her, but I don't see it like that.

The way I see it, I'm the luckiest man alive.

I understand having fears-having dark secrets you can't get away from-and I've never felt more special than when Maria told me how scared she was. She pushed through her fears tonight, and for what? To go to dinner with me? What the h.e.l.l did I do to deserve someone so amazing?

I close my eyes and thoughts of her fill my mind. She wore jeans and a plain, purple turtleneck to dinner, but if she was trying to dress down for the night, it didn't work. All that the shirt did was draw my attention to her body even more. Everything that made her look so fantastic tonight came from her, not from the deceptive allure of an outfit. I hope she didn't catch me staring at her too much, because I know I caught my eyes drifting down several times during dinner. I could barely help myself.

Maria is absolutely gorgeous, and I loved every minute of being with her tonight-even when started asking me about my family. I just wish... well, I wish that I wasn't so screwed up that I can't trust myself with her. She deserves a better guy than a mess like me.

The phone rings for the fifth time tonight, and my blood runs cold as I check the caller ID. It isn't my mother this time.

It's Dad.

I let the phone sit on the floor and ring until it goes to my voice mail, but it starts ringing again almost immediately. I should know better than to think that he'd stop. He's going to keep calling again and again until I answer.

I take a deep breath, get up from the floor, and answer the phone.

"h.e.l.lo?" I say into the receiver, pretending I don't already know who it is. He doesn't buy it.

"Your mother says you're not coming home again. You'd best be rethinking that, boy."

The harsh growl of his voice immediately yanks me ten years back in time. I feel like I'm a child again and he's towering above me, glaring down at me with hatred burning in his eyes.

"I can't come home," I argue, pacing back and forth. "I have a job and don't get vacation days."

"I didn't ask for your excuses, you stupid son of a b.i.t.c.h ," he snaps back at me. "Your mother ain't seen you in four years, and if I have to, I'll drive up there and haul your a.s.s back here myself."