Chapter 6 (Clay's POV):

As soon as the front door opens, I can tell that something is wrong.

I'm getting better at reading you (I had nowhere to go but up, really). Spending so much time together the last few weeks has certainly helped. The fact that you've opened up to me a lot more has obviously made a huge difference, too. I'm a pretty quick learner once I know what to actually study.

You exchange pleasantries with my parents, who answered the doorbell, but I can tell that you want us to be alone ASAP. Which is fine, because my plan for this evening certainly doesn't involve hanging out here with my folks. Though I wonder if your mindset will derail any of what I was thinking- or hoping- would happen tonight. No harm in being prepared, Jensen, I think to myself. I excuse myself and run upstairs to grab a large knapsack, already stuffed with items I had packed for the occasion.

I walk outside to approach you, and I'm immediately taken aback by the fact that the Jeep isn't in the driveway. Your parents have been super-cool the last few weeks in letting you drive it. I glance around.

"I walked here," you say, your voice oddly distant. "Can we walk to where you planned for us to go?"

"It's a pretty long walk," I say. A couple of miles. But it's doable, I think. I lead us off, down the driveway.

You shrug. "That's okay. I don't mind." You turn towards the house. "Bye, Mr. and Mrs. Jensen."

"What's wrong?" I whisper, as soon as the front door closes. My parents made their presence known in seeing us off, of course, but thankfully retreated back into the house.

You glance back to make sure that my parents aren't still standing there. "I fucked up."

"How?"

Your lip quivers as you bite it, hesitating. "How?" I repeat, a little desperate for your answer.

You take several deep breaths- it seems as though you're doing your best not to cry, but I see your eyes tear up anyway. "I lost a bunch of money."

"How?" I ask again immediately, no filter between my brain and mouth. I rephrase. "Sorry. I mean, what happened?" I inquire more gently. I try to answer the question in my mind before you even say anything. Are you feeling guilty about a shopping trip? Did you buy something really expensive that you can't return? Then I realize you said lost, not spent.

"I didn't even spend it on anything. I just- left the bag somewhere, I think," you attempt to explain. You inhale shakily. "I was supposed to deposit money from the store into the bank, but I just- I lost it," you finish.

"Hannah," I say softly. "I'm- I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault," you say, wiping your tears.

I stop you for a moment, hug you in the middle of the street. "It was an accident- you didn't mean to. Your parents will understand."

"I thought you were more responsible than this. We trusted you. That's what they said to me this evening," you shudder at the words.

Headlights appear down the road, signaling that we should move from our spot. I put my arm around your shoulders, moving us out of the way, and then we continue to walk on the side of the street. "They'll trust you again. It might take a little bit of time, but you are responsible. You'll earn back their trust," I say confidently, massaging your shoulder with my hand.

"I hope so. God, I'm sorry," you say, sniffling. "This just sucks." You nod at our direction of walking. "So, where are we headed?" you ask, a halfhearted attempt to change the subject.

"Up," is all I reply. We're walking towards the hill, where the houses of the well-to-do are.

Curiously, you don't ask me for more details. I think you want to be surprised.

I can tell you haven't said all you want to about why you're upset, so I ask you about your parents. You tell me you can't believe how stressed they are. You're worried for their future, the future of Baker's Drug Store. I tell you I can't blame you; that times don't always change for the better. As I say it, though, I'm smiling a little too, thinking about Tony's car and cassette tapes- because there are still people out there willing to preserve history. We talk about a lot of other things. How you're bummed that we won't be working together anymore. I completely, 100% agree with you, I'll miss it- a lot. Though I hope I'll still be seeing you just as much.

We walk in silence for a while. You seem relieved to have gotten some of your frustration out. As we continue to walk, we eventually start to hear the sounds of music, of voices, still several blocks away. We're in the hills now. As we get closer, we both begin to realize that we've unintentionally come up on Bryce's party. We're right at the driveway, and I'm about to suggest we go around back to check it out when you say something that makes me stop dead in my tracks.

"You know, that asshole grabbed my butt the day that Alex's list came out."

I turn to look at you, and see the fury behind your eyes. And what I didn't get before, I get now. So that's why you hated it when Alex put out that list. It opened up a reason, however inexcusable, for all kinds of jerks like Bryce to act out.

My eyes must have looked incredulous, because you elaborate. "Yeah. At the Blue Spot. This little store where I get my chocolate fix sometimes. At the cash register, right in front of the cashier. And then he made this smart-ass comment and told me that the list was right."

The list was right, Hannah, I think, though I've finally learned by now that agreeing with Bryce Walker right now would not be a good idea. Instead, I focus on the fact that the list being right doesn't in any way give Bryce permission to put his hands all over you. I find myself getting angry.

"Well, fuck that asshole, then," I say, pissed off. You're my girlfriend, now- at least if you want to be. "I didn't lead you up here to go to his place. Let's keep going." I hold your hand and we begin to walk again, right past Bryce's driveway.

"Not to mention the shitty comments he made to me at the dance about that picture with Courtney," you add. You give his house the double-finger as we pass by.

We keep walking, going upward. The walking eventually turns into hiking. About a half an hour later, we've finally arrived at where I had in mind- this amazing place in the mountains where I'd been with Tony a few times. Though it would make a prime spot to park and make out, I've never seen any other cars there.

"This is it," I say, pleased. Though it took us a while to get here, being able to talk to you this whole way has only made the journey that much better. The destination didn't even feel that important a few minutes ago, but now that we're finally here- I'm psyched. The night is cool and breezy with the beginnings of autumn thick in the air; the sky is clear with a full moon above.

I open up the knapsack, start to get out some of the stuff I'd packed. First I dig out the blanket, which I spread out in the flattest area I can find. I then break out a bottle of water and a package of cheese crackers for us to share.

"What are we doing here?" you ask, a little warily.

I look upward, point to the sky. Yes. It's, filled, absolutely filled, with stars. We're just far enough away from the houses to get a perfect view of the night sky.

I reach into my sack to retrieve a set of binoculars. "I told you about the Perseids meteor shower, right? It's the tail end of it, but we should still be able to see some meteors, some shooting stars."

You relax into a smile. "Okay, astronomy boy. Sounds fun."

You lay down on one side of the blanket and I lay down next to you, our shoulders touching. I take the binoculars for a few minutes and scan the sky for the area where I think we'll have the most luck, then give you the binoculars and point out where to look, throwing in some constellations as reference points.

"Wait, which one is Orion again?" you ask.

I tell you how to spot the belt, where Betelgeuse and Rigel are. "Oh!" you exclaim as you finally seem to have the right spot. While you're looking, I open the water- I'm pretty thirsty from the hike and imagine you are, too- and offer it to you. I tear open the crackers, taking a couple for myself, and hand you the rest of the pack.

You put the binoculars down as you accept the snack. "You know, these remind me of Jessica Davis," you begin thoughtfully. "I drove her home after the winter formal- she was wasted, remember?- and she ate some of the crackers that I had stored in the console. Right before she apologized to me for slapping me across the face."

"What?" I ask you incredulously. I can't decide if I'm more bothered that she slapped you or the fact that thinking about it kind of turns me on. Unless she really hurt you, of course.

"Yeah," you say, "that was another unintended result of Alex's 'list'- because I got 'best ass', and Jessica got 'worst ass', she automatically assumed I was sleeping with him, since she believed the rumors that were already going around about Justin. That was fun." The sarcasm drips from your voice. But then you add, hastily, "Though I'm glad she said she was sorry, I guess."

"Wow," I say. "I'm sorry. I had no idea you went through all of that," I'm trying my hardest to wipe the visual from my mind. She did really hurt you. Everyone did.

"Yeah," you agree. "It wasn't the easiest year." You play with the strap on the binoculars. "Parts of it were pretty great, though." You smile a little. "Hey, can I ask you something? I'm kind of surprised you haven't brought it up in the last couple of weeks."

I have no idea what you're going to say, and your words make me anxious. I take a deep breath, turn to face you, look into your eyes. "What's that?"

"I wouldn't ask you this if I didn't already think it was you- but were you the one that put all of the bunny drawings into my compliment bag?"

I can feel myself turning red all over. "Yeah."

"They helped to make last year better. Before Zach Dempsey got to them."

I'm thoroughly confused. "Zach Dempsey?"

"Yeah, he was taking them out of my bag. I think he was pissed at me for turning him down when he asked me out." You shrug. "I don't need to get into it. My point was that those drawings meant a lot to me. They made me feel better at a really low point last year."

I'm still blushing, I know it, but your comment makes me sad, too. "Thanks. I was too afraid to sign my name. Sorry about that."

"Why are you sorry?"

"I know I've said this before, but I'm sorry that I didn't tell you how I felt, or asked you out, sooner. I wasted a lot of time."

You grasp my hand, snuggling closer to me. "We have time now. I'm not going anywhere."

"But-," I'm struggling for words, "You went through a lot, obviously. I wish I could have done more, helped you through things. Or at least been there for you, listened to you."

You look at me seriously. "You were there for me, Helmet. It was my choice not to confide in you- especially about all of the crap that people were saying about me. I- I didn't want you to think less of me."

Suddenly this feels like the right time. I think of something I said to Jeff at the dance- I think she thinks I care about shit I don't care about. My heart instantly starts pounding out of my chest. My hands become sweaty while simultaneously my mouth becomes parched. I take the bottle of water back and take a glug, swishing the fluid around my mouth, licking my lips to moisten them. Here goes. There's a first time for everything, right? "I don't- I couldn't. I- I- loved you back then. And- I love you now."