Riley opened the door after three knocks. As soon as Lucas saw her, he rummages in his bag and surfaces with the Beauty and the Beast DVD. Riley squealed with delight, grinning as Lucas handed it to her. She knew he'd give in and watch the movie she wanted to watch. She loaded it into her computer and clear off the coffee table.

"Popcorn?" Lucas calls from the kitchen.

"Okay," I call back. "There's coffee if you want it."

"I want to sleep tonight so maybe not." Lucas flicked off the lights as he comes back into the living room with the popcorn. When he hits the couch, his limbs went everywhere. But then he pulled Riley against him, his thumb running down her bare arm, and she remembered that he always knows exactly what he's doing.

After the movie Riley showered first and left Lucas to clean up, She sat on the floor of the bathroom, combing the tangles out of her hair, listening to Lucas humming just on the other side of the door. Most nights, she likes the company. But tonight, something shivers beneath her skin. Two days he was gone, and when he showed up today at her door, the explosion of her heart splattering against her rib cage surprised her. Their usual banter fades away this time of night, and then she's unsure of where to go next.

"Riles, you okay in there?" Lucas calls, rapping his knuckles on the door.

Don't mind me. Just untangling my feelings, she wanted to say. Instead, Riley called back, "I'm dressed, just brushing my hair. You can come in if you miss me that much."

Colossal mistake. When Lucas opens the door, he's shirtless, his jeans sitting low around his hips, his abs defined enough that Riley wanted to run her fingers along the indents. He doesn't notice, rubbing his hands absentmindedly through his messy hair. Lucas' accidentally beautiful in a way that few people manage to pull off, with his blonde hair and green eyes, the way his eyes and smile tend to light up at the same time.

"You're sitting on the floor brushing your hair," he says, fishing the spare toothbrush out of Riley's vanity without asking. He watches her from the mirror, in her bathroom.

"Standing felt tiring," she admitted. "I'm tired of being on my feet."

Lucas tried to say something through his toothbrush and she wrinkled her nose. He spits out the toothpaste and rinses out his mouth. "You're such a princess sometimes."

"Too bad you're not my Prince Charming," she says without thinking and open her mouth to take back the words, but shut it immediately. She can't rescind that without admitting the truth: he kind of is Prince Charming.

"Charming, sure. Princely, less so. We don't have those in Texas," he says without missing a beat. He slides down onto the floor with a sigh and stretches out his legs, using his toes to overturn the tiny trash can. Riley rolled her eyes at him and he grins at her. Sometimes she forgets that they are no longer teenagers.

He scoots closer and leans against her, his bare arm warm against hers. Riley's hyperaware of the way her tank top clings to her damp skin and how short her pajama shorts are. It's silly. They spend all day together, but right here, it feels different. She press the word for it away from the front of her mind.

He elbows me a little. "You're thinking so loud you're giving me a headache."

"Sorry." She turned her face into him, closing her eyes and inhaling deeply. He's warm and smells of aftershave and a crispness that clings to his clothes and hair.

His fingers walk slowly up her leg, from her knee to her thigh. She shivered and his arm shifts against her nose and mouth when he laughs. "Ticklish, Riley Matthews?"

She loves her nickname, but when he uses her full name, her breath pirouettes in her chest, spinning her higher and higher. Her skin hums everywhere he touches her. This is why she do not—cannot—let herself think this is anything but platonic. There's too much at stake. Friendship. Future. Hearts.

"It'll be fine," he reassures me, and for a second, she can't figure out what he's talking about. His hand flattens on her arm. Right. He thought I'm worried about something.

"Huh?" She said and can practically feel her skin turn bright pink. Oh, God. She wanted to crawl into a hole and die, but instead, she's sitting on the floor with him and kept saying stupid things.

All the muscles south of her ribs seize up tightly at the quiet, thoughtful noise he makes. He presses his lips against her forehead abruptly and says, his voice a low hum that turns her inside out, "Breathe, Riley."

"I'm breathing," she whispered. And then she let her lips brush against his arm a little more than she should. He swallows.

"Look at me," and his voice makes it a command, not a request. Riley lifted her face free from its safe spot and forced herself to meet Lucas' eyes, not to run around his face, or touch his body, or think about anything other than school.

She made the effort. He doesn't.

Lucas ran an inquisitive finger from the corner of her eye, across her cheek to the corner of her mouth, and then down her jaw to her collarbone, then to her shoulder. His finger took her breath, her heartbeat, the heat from her body with it as it runs down to the delicate skin on the inside of her elbow, to the blue veins in her wrists. Riley's afraid he's going to ask why her pulse is hammering.

"Pushing ourselves outside our comfort zone and taking risks," he whispers, his voice low and husky. "That's what we do. We're tough."

Is that what they are? Right here, half-naked and exchanging curious touches? Staring at each other's mouths? Tough.

Riley had to slide away from Lucas before she does something crazy. She pushed herself a few inches away, inhale deeply and sink against the bathtub wall. She pulled her legs beneath her and stood up, offering Lucas her hand. When she pulled him to his feet, she stepped into his embrace and he rocks her back and forth.

If taking risks is what they do, if they're tough to their very core, then what he and she has is the next obstacle they'll have to conquer.