I smiled at Sam's touch. It was late – probably like three in the morning or something like that. She was lying in my arms as she reached for my face. I let myself enjoy her touch; the touch I had almost lost a few hours before. She traced her fingers along my forehead, around the hollows of my eyes, the bridge of my nose, and then finally down to my jawline. I relaxed into her hand as she brushed a thumb across my cracked lips – only a few hours ago, I had been preparing myself to never feel that touch again.

As I revisited the last few hours, I thought of what I had told Sam; that I would tell her my secret if she revealed her own. I thought of what I wanted to tell her – what secret I would reveal to her. I felt a little guilty thinking of it. I knew that what I considered my biggest secret and what she would consider my biggest secret (if she knew my secrets) were two totally different things.

But there was one secret I really wanted her to know.

I drew in a breath, trying to prepare myself for what I was about to reveal. My heart was fluttering; my mind flying. I had never told anyone this before and it was nerve-wracking.

"I never made good on my promise," I said. I'd intended for it to come out casually, like I'd only just thought of it and I hadn't been lying here for the past twenty minutes thinking about it, but it came out very serious.

Sam played with my hair, gently massaging my scalp as she answered. "What promise was that?"

"To tell you my secret."

Sam was quiet for a long stretch of time. I didn't want to wonder what it meant – none of the things I could think of were positive.

"You don't have to tell me that if you don't want to," she finally revealed.

"I really want you to know," I decided. Now that I was so close to telling her, now that I'd finally decided to go through with it, I couldn't stop. I couldn't not tell her.

"Okay," Sam agreed. "What's your secret, Phantom?"

That my name isn't Phantom.

Instead, I imagined how this moment could possibly unfold; the little story I'd pictured playing out in my head. I wanted to follow that – have the conversation steered toward exactly as I had visualized it going.

"You can't say it like that …" I scolded her. And then I revealed my secret fear, "I don't want you to react the wrong way."

Because what if it didn't go as I wanted it to? What if it went the complete opposite? What if she told me that she would never love me; that I was creeping her out and that I should just get out of her house right now and never see her again?

"I promise not to be mad."

Somehow, I didn't think her reaction would be anger related at all.

"It's not that I think you'll get mad," I explained to her. "At least, I hope not."

"I promise not to overreact," she swore instead.

"Better," I admitted. I bent and kissed the very tip of her nose. As I leaned away, I paused. I took in every line of her face, wanting to see her expression when I finally told her what had been on my mind for so long.

"Sam …" I muttered, tracing her cheeks, the same way she'd outlined mine. "My secret is …"

Suddenly, I didn't know if I could do it. I didn't know if I could reveal so much of myself; expose myself in that way; I didn't know if I could make myself that vulnerable.

"What is it?" Sam asked, smiling at me.

Would she smile after I told her?

Either way, I had to do it.

"I'm in love with you."

Sam jerked forward, sitting up and staring at me – suddenly wide awake.

"WHAT?!"

"This is what I meant by reacting the wrong way," I sighed, feeling my hopes plummet. She didn't love me back and she now wanted me to leave. I felt a piece of my heart begin to break at the thought. For the first time in my life, I was in love and she would never love me back – not to mention how our relationship was going to crash to an end, probably terrifyingly soon.

"I just don't understand," Sam cried, picking up speed as she went. "How can you love me? We haven't even known each other that long and I'm not really that loveable and I don't understand-"

I couldn't listen to her anymore. I pressed my finger against her mouth, effectively silencing her. "Breathe," I instructed, as I thought about what she had said. It didn't matter that we'd only known each other for a few months. It didn't matter that she didn't think she was loveable; I knew she was. And if she didn't understand, well, someday she would.

"I just don't understand," Sam repeated after she had taken my advised breath.

"Love doesn't work on time frames," I told her, trying to put my feelings into words. "I loved you long before this. I could try to explain why I love you, but I can't – there's too much to say. It's because you're you."

"I'm not that special," Sam argued, still looking shell-shocked.

"But you are to me. I don't think you realize how much you mean to me." I loved her so much that I didn't even care that I sounded desperate.

"But love?" Sam continued denying me. "People don't fall in love as teenagers."

But they did. I knew they did.

"Of course they do," I told Sam. "Weren't you listening? Love doesn't work on a schedule. You fall in love when you meet someone beautiful; so beautiful that you have to catch your breath whenever you think of them, like I do with you. Love is when I can close my eyes and map out your face on my eyelids. Love is when I know the tempo of your heartbeat better than my own. Love is when you understand me without words. Love is when I don't have to pretend for you; when you can accept me for who I am and don't question beyond that. Love is when you are my first and last thought of the day – and every thought in between. You are that and more, Sam. To say I like you doesn't do this justice – I am in love with you."

Nicholas Sparks, eat your fucking heart out.

"Oh my god," Sam collapsed back into her mattress next to me. I was almost scared to watch her face; to hear her next words. "You're in love with me."

Yes, I was. I completely was.

"Phantom." Her voice trembled. "I think –"

And I knew I just couldn't hear whatever was on the tip of her tongue.

"Don't … Whatever you were about to tell me – whether you do or don't return my feelings – I want you to be sure. I don't want an 'I think' in front of it. Can you promise me that?"

She nodded.

"Now you need to get to bed. It's late."

"Tomorrow's only a half day," she murmured.

"That doesn't mean you don't have to rest."

I tucked her in. "Sleep babe," I instructed softly, brushing my lips against hers.

"Stay," she pleaded.

"I always do," I assured her. I always stayed for as long as I could.

When I was sure she was asleep, I slipped my arm out from underneath of her and headed home. It was a short flight, thankfully. I felt like I was going to drop out of the air from exhaustion. But when I tumbled through the wall into my room, I realized I wasn't getting to sleep any time soon. Jazz was propped up against my pillows, methodically highlighting things in a textbook.

"You've been out for quite a while," she observed dryly.

"And?" I pushed, changing back into my natural form and lying next to her.

"You're out late an awfully lot lately … Actually, you're out a lot lately period. I feel like you're never home when I am. Mom and Dad said that they think you're spending too much time with Paullina but, see, I don't think you're with Paullina."

I raised my eyebrows at her. "You don't?"

"Well … I'm half-hoping you're not," she offered a wane smile and I smiled back – Jazz and Paullina hated one another with a burning passion. "So, Danny, where are you?"

I took a deep breath and spilled my guts to my sister. I told her about everything – from the first day of school when Sam had been attacked by Dora to my declaration not even an hour before. When I was finished, I bit my lip and waited for Jazz's verdict. As annoying as she was, I trusted her advice completely and I knew that she would be able to see the situation clearly.

She shook her head at me. "What kind of trouble have you gotten yourself into?"

I had the decency to be ashamed. "I know … And I don't know what to do."

She gave me the patented of-course-you-don't-you-dumb-little-brother look that she'd perfected just after my birth. "Danny, you told Sam you're in love with her, and I know you're not lying about that. So, the question is, why the fuck are you still lying to her?"

I stared, more than a little surprised. Jazz never swore. Her vocabulary was always perfect – levels above my own. She took pride in the fact that she didn't have to resort to crude words to get her point across.

"Uh." I managed.

"What is wrong with you? For once in your life, you actually care about a girl – not some teenaged fantasy about a girl – and you're setting it up to fall apart. From the sounds of it, you knew from your first conversation that she was the real thing. You should have told her about your dual identities when you realized that you were in love with her. You knew that she was a good person – honest and trustworthy. And you should have broken up with Paullina as soon as you realized you had feelings for Sam. And I'm not just saying that because I really don't like Paullina. How do you think it's going to end?"

I shook my head. "Badly. I know that. But I can't control that anymore."

"Break up with Paullina," Jazz urged.

The best I could manage was, "I'll think about it."

I wasn't ready to lose Paullina; wasn't ready to hurt her in that way. But I was getting close to letting go of her – I just had a few ties left that I needed to cut. But, there was a thought in the back of my mind: because of how Phantom was, it would eventually have to end with Sam – wouldn't I want Paullina around when Sam and I were over?

(-.-)

"Hi, Dora," I greeted, trying to be friendly to the annoyed dragon. She belted fire at me and ended up melting a row of lockers.

I hoped Sam was outside – I didn't want her to get caught in Dora's way again. Getting attacked in Casper High once was more than enough.

"C'mon, Dora," I urged. "You need to calm down and get out of here."

My parents were in here – I could hear Dad's footsteps. The last thing that I wanted them to do was find Dora and I. Just because I'm used to them throwing insults at me and shooting at me didn't mean I liked it.

Dora roared at me and took out a stair railing with her tail.

I started digging around for my Fenton Thermos.

"Halt, Ghost Boy!"

I held up my hands and turned to face my mother.

"Hey," I said, smiling and trying to negotiate with them in hopes of not getting injured this time. "Look, she and I were just finishing up here. We're both on our way out."

Dad aimed a Blaster at me. Mom pointed her gun just behind me, at Dora, though we all knew that I was a bigger threat.

"It's time for you to go, Ghost," Dad ordered me.

I smirked at the irony of him repeating my battle cry of 'goin' ghost'.

"What's so funny?" Mom demanded.

"Nothing, nothing," I assured her. "But, really, I was on my way out. So if you want to put the guns down, let me collect my friend … Really, this is all taken care of."

"We'll take care of you, all right," Dad growled. "We can't have you terrorizing the children of Casper anymore."

Yeah, because I was the problem here.

"Right, okay, totally. Cross my heart and hope to die."

Dad narrowed his eyes at me. I saw his finger move but didn't recognize that he had pulled the trigger until the deadly blast was coming toward me. I swerved a second too late – my reaction time off because of the very late night. It hit me in the shoulder and I hissed in pain.

"Sorry, Dora," I muttered to the dragon who was currently kneading her claws into the tile floor, looking like she might snack on my parents.

I turned invisible and left Dora and my parents to battle it out. I knew that they could take care of themselves, especially against Dora who would likely disappear when they started shooting. If there was one thing that Dora hated, it was a Fenton Blaster.

I left the school, keeping a hand on my injured shoulder, trying to quell the pain until I got to Jazz.

I don't own anything recognizable. Thanks to my betas: Forever Sky. Don't forget about the poll!

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