By IsYourH3artTaken

Hear No Evil

02

A Warm Place In Hell

My mom bursts through the door, a loose fitting powder blue robe tied around her middle. Her face is clean and makeup free. She rushes to my side, taking in the glass shards littering my carpet and the petrified look on my face. "Cora? What is it? What's wrong?" Her cool hand touches my cheek, rotating my head so I have to look at her. "Why did you break your mirror?"

I can barely speak audible words. "I..." I stutter dumbly, staring into her eyes, but not really seeing them. Beyond her hazel irises, I see the dead boy, gazing back at me. Terror in his eyes, mouth open wide like he's trying to swallow the world. I swat my mom's hand away and stumble back, almost falling onto my back when my ankle knocks against the wooden legs of the vanity chair. There's a tremor in my bones, starting up my calf and crawling all the way up to my ribs, and it makes my breast plate vibrate with a strange buzzing. I don't know what's going on. Everything is fuzzy and unclear.

What's happening to me?

"Cora," my mom starts carefully, voice calm and calculating, holding up one hand like you would to a rabid dog that's about to bite. "It's okay. You're fine."

"I saw...I saw.." I stammer out, tongue twisted.

Her eyes sharpen. "What did you see?"

"Something." It comes out as a whisper and I stare vacantly into space, hands half way up as if I'm about to grab at something. I must look like a psycho.

Mom's lips part to speak, but then my dad appears in the doorway, salt and pepper hair slightly messy and sticking up in crazy directions. My blood-curdling scream must have roused him from sleep. "What in God's name is going on?" He demands. "Cora, why aren't you in bed? It's almost two in the morning." He appraises the remnants of the mirror. "And what did you do to your vanity?"

My mom sighs and crosses her arms. Her eyes never leave me. "She says she saw something."

Dad looks at me carefully. "What did you see?"

"I...um," I murmur, scratching the back of my head. I can't tell them. They can't know. If they find out I just saw a dark spirit, in my room no less, they'll pin me in a straight jacket and ship me off the the nearest psychiatric ward for sure. No...I can't tell them. Ever. "I, uh, I saw a spider, that's all. It was crawling all over my mirror, so I hit it with a shoe. I'm sorry I woke you."

Mom's eyes narrow, detecting the little white lie, but she doesn't probe me further with questions. I guess she's too tired to deal with it. Or planning to spring on the interrogation when I least expect it. It's happened before during my eight grade farewell dance when I came home past eleven o'clock curfew and wasn't confronted about until the next morning. The look of a grim reaper across your mother's features isn't something you want to see with a mouthful of french toast.

My dad, on the other hand, looks relieved. "Well, thank heavens. For moment there, I thought you were seeing ghosts." He laughs softly afterwords and I join in, but it sounds horribly fake, like bad actresses on infomercials. "Don't worry about your mirror," he tells me. "I'll pick up a new one tomorrow. Get some rest. It's late." He leans down to kiss my forehead, tucking a strand of damp hair behind my ear and wishes me goodnight.

I stand there, arms curled around my mid section, and hold in a breathe until Dad leaves the room. I expect Mom to follow in tow, but she waits there, looking at me with very aware eyes. It feels like she's picking me to pieces, deciphering why I just flat out lied to them like that. I know she'll bomb me with questions, baiting me into letting the truth slip out.

But she doesn't.

It's almost as if...she knows. "Sleep tight, hon," is all she says and with a simple kiss on the cheek, leaves me alone with my distress and broken mirror.

0000

Like expected, I wake up with the worst headache. I don't know if it's from the beer I had the other night or the fact that I dreamed of a red haired school boy clawing at my neck, shrieking in my ear like those ring wraiths from Lord of the Rings, so loudly my head was on the verge of implosion. God, that disappearing car trick with the Ipswich boys really screwed up the workings of my brain. I need a shower pronto.

The early Saturday morning shine filters through my curtains, the complete opposite of what I feel inside. I'm cranky, my forehead pulses, and I shun my parents until I'm fresh out of the shower with two Ibuprofen tablets coursing through my system. They don't inquire about my mood swings during breakfast, but I do notice the wary glances they shoot each other, like they're wondering if it's that time of the month and if they should stay away until it passes. If only that were the case. Tons of chocolate and Nicholas Sparks romance novels won't help these kinds of issues.

When my toaster strudel breakfast is finished, I retreat back to my room to get ready to head out with Mom. Every weekend, she runs small errands that I tag along with for company's sake. Normally, I love having the house to myself, but today is one of those days where you just want to go out and see the world. As I raid my closet, my cell phone rings. It's Kate.

I answer it swiftly. "Hello?"

"Hi!" She chirps, sounding greatly relieved. "I'm so sorry about last night. Sarah and I tried looking for you, but we couldn't find you anywhere and thought you already went home. God, that was so stupid of me. I'm sorry. We should have waited for you by your car."

I smile in appreciation at her apology. "It's fine, Kate. Don't worry about it. I got a ride home anyways."

"Yeah, Pogue called and told me he drove you. That's so sweet of him. So, what did you think?"

"About what?"

"About what?" She mocks. "I mean Pogue, dummy. You know I can't have my best friend and boyfriend hating each other."

Her words make my stomach crumble. "He's...cool, I guess," I say very precariously. "Drives like a lunatic, though."

Kate chuckles. "Right? He's so gorgeous. I knew he'd be perfect from the moment I saw him."

"Yeah, he told me how you guys met. It's like something out of Love Actually."

"Oh, shut up," Kate laughs again. "Okay, I know I haven't had the best history with guys, but I really like him. I think I actually might've found the right one this time."

It feels like someone is ripping out my organs with a chainsaw. Keep it together, Cora. "I can tell," I hum and lay a light blue long sleeve henley on my bed. They'll look nice with my dark wash jeans. "Well, he seems good for you."

"You think?"

"Totally. Hey, listen, I gotta run. But I'll talk to you later, okay?"

"Yeah, sure. Bye!"

"Bye, Kate." I hang up and toss my phone on the mattress, sighing deeply. Well, that wasn't as horrid as I thought it would be. Sure, I still cringe and want to fling myself off the roof every time someone mentions the leather jacket wearing, bike riding boy, but hey, shit happens right? Right. No use fretting about it, so I continue getting ready, pondering my outfit choice for the day. The sky is spotless, but there's a chill in the air that tells me it's best to dress warmly. So I change quickly, not wanting to waste time and have Mom nag me for it. She never likes to be late for anything, even for errands that don't have an appointment set. Mom logic. Go figure.

After I'm done dressing, I run my brush through my hair to undo any knots or tangles from my post shower, finding no time to properly smooth or style it, then skip downstairs. When I reach the end of the banister, I hear pencil scribbling on thick sheets of paper and bound around the corner to see Mom at the mail desk. She's already dressed to go, clad in work attire.

"Yo, mom," I greet, rapping my knuckles on the white frame. "Ready to roll?"

"Just a minute," she answers, sticking a few stamps on some envelopes to drop off at the post office. "Alright, now we can go." She stands and slings her sleek black purse over her shoulder. Car keys jingle in her left hand.

I follow her out to the car, patting my pockets to make sure I have my mp3 player with me. I'd just die if I have to listen to another one of my mom's Phil Collins CD. So I position in the earbuds then crank up the volume, letting my head fall back against the cushion. Mom keys the ignition and pulls out of the driveway. We drive at a leisurely pace, windows rolled down so my pallid reflection doesn't make any surprise greets. I can't look at or pass any sort of mirrors now without thinking that something is gonna pop up on the other side, dark and decrepit. It's like someone spun this curse, to mock and torment me everywhere I go. Sounds batshit crazy, but it's the only explanation my stressed brain can come up with it.

Ugh, I really don't need this right now. Holing myself up in my room reading old Tiger Beat magazines been a better idea. Maybe next time. Sighing, I tilt my head slightly to the right so I can see past the roof of the car. The sky is a perfect cloudless blue, without a drop of grey.

When we cruise up on high overpasses, I just make out the very peaks of the mountains over the horizon, and just beyond that, clouds that look like pale white silk scarfs. I close my eyes and inhale the murky fresh air, lightly bobbing my head to My Love by Justin Timberlake. After stopping by the post office and dry cleaners, Mom sends me to pick up a few items at the local drugstore while she goes to the bank. It's within walking distance so I don't bother having her drive me. The weather is decent enough for a stroll anyways.

The market is cold when I step in, a local pop station playing on the radio overhead. I skim the aisle mom told me to search for and snatch up her requested item when I see it. Tampons. A woman's lifeline. Where would civilization be without them? Clutching the box to my chest, I spin on my heel towards the cash register and nearly run headlong into somebody's shoulder.

Kate.

"Sorry!" I apologize, not realizing it's her until I see her cheeky smile beaming at me. "Oh, hey!" I say, happier. "I didn't know you'd be here."

She giggles and hold up her shopping basket. It's half full. "I got a little list of my own." She glances at the box of tampons in my hands and frowns. "You too, huh?"

I look down at the bundle and laugh, almost forgetting about it. "Nah, this is for my mom, actually."

She nods. "I still have some things to get here. Want to come with?"

"Sure," I respond, shrugging and follow her onto the cosmetic and body care section. We chat about last night's party, which makes me go red in the face when she mentions the Ipswich boys. I wait for her to bring up how they can levitate two ton objects in a blink of an eye, but of course, she doesn't. Maybe it's the fact that we're in public. Or maybe she just doesn't know? How weird would that be?

Does anyone else know besides me?

As Kate reaches for a magazine, a tall slim figure at the counter catches her eye. "Hey, Caleb."

The teen heartthrob turns toward us, little white bag in hand. "Oh, hey, Kate. Hey, Cora. What are you guys up to?"

"I'm just stocking up our room," Kate explains.

I hold up the box of tampons. "Mother nature run." I smile at Caleb's uncomfortable expression.

"Gross," he mutters.

I laugh.

"Did you hear about the dead kid?" Kate asks him, lowering her voice.

"Yeah. Yeah, I did," Caleb tells her guardedly. His eyes quickly flash to me, like he knows what happened the other night in my room.

"Wait, what dead kid?" I pipe in, just to be sure.

"A guy from our school was found dead last night in his car," Kate informs me. "I sat next to him in AP History. I never knew his name, though."

"Did...did he have red hair?" I ask tentatively. The look in Caleb's eyes shift, but I can't tell if it's good or bad.

"Yeah, he did. Why?" Kate says.

I shrug and look down at my shoes. The white edges are stained with rain water. "No reason."

Kate looks confused on why I would ask that, but doesn't press it. She faces Caleb again. "Did you know him?"

Caleb takes his sweet time answering. "No. No, he...uh, transferred in."

"Yeah, I heard he lived on Reid and Tyler's floor."

Caleb looks like he's about to say something else, but then a familiar blonde head bops around the corner. It's Sarah. She smiles so wide like the Chesire Cat when she sees the brown haired hunk. "Hi," she says dreamily.

Caleb charms her. "Hi there."

Apparently mad game doesn't come with magical superpowers.

"Boo!" A random dude pops out from the woodwork, supporting disco looking glasses. It's none other than Chase Collins, the guy Kate and Sarah were lusting after at the party. He exchanges handshakes with Caleb. Such manly manners.

"Um, I'm gonna see if Pogue wants to catch that new Brad Pitt flick this afternoon," Kate announces. "Who else wants to go?"

"I will," Chase quickly volunteers. Gee, I wonder why...

Caleb respectfully bows out. "I gotta run some errands for my mother."

I don't miss the eye sex between him and Sarah. Sheesh, just screw each other already. "I already saw it," Sarah proclaims.

Kate gives her a knowing smile, then turns to me, her final option. "Cora?"

Sitting in a stuffy movie theater for two hours with my best friend, her insanely attractive boyfriend and some guy who I barely know? Not gonna happen. I let her down gently. "I can't. I have to go with my dad to get his car fixed." Which is actually plausible. We did make a prior commitment for it earlier in the week.

Kate frowns. "Bummer. Oh, well. Maybe next time?"

I nod and force myself to smile. "Definitely." Truth is, I just can't be around her boyfriend without giving myself an ulcer. He makes my veins feel like their about to explode in a way no guy ever should. Not even Cole gave me such feelings.

Yup, I'm attracted to my best friend's boyfriend.

And I'm definitely going to hell for it.

Before I can say my goodbyes and sneak away without a fuss, I feel Caleb's hand lightly touch my arm. His cider colored eyes are on me, surprisingly narrow and alert. Like he knows something...knows what happened to me last night. But that's impossible. He can't know...Can he?

"Can we talk for a minute?" He asks me seriously and his gaze quickly darts to the other three. "Just the two of us."

I'm caught off guard, to say the least. No more than two seconds ago, he was probably mentally stripping down Sarah, now he suddenly wants some super secret private conversation with me? Can this day get any weirder?

Guess so.

"Oh, uh.. yeah. Sure," I say tentatively and follow Caleb to a secluded corner of the store by the candy section.

"What happened last night after Pogue dropped you off?" He demands the moment we're cut off from the group.

I hesitate for a second, but the intense gleam in his eyes tells me that he'll know if I'm lying or not. There's no choice but to explain what I saw, whether it makes me look like an idiot or not. "I was in my room," I begin carefully. "Just brushing my hair...then all of a sudden, I couldn't see. Everything went black. Then... then-" I struggle to get the difficult part out. My throat runs dry. "Then I saw flashes, like memories, but they weren't of me. I saw the dead kid from the paper. He was in his car. He looked normal, I guess, but then looked really, really scared. Like he saw something terrifying. And then...he was...he was-" A bundle of emotion lodges in my chest.

"Dead," Caleb finishes for me, softly.

I nod, sniffling. "When I opened my eyes, he was in my mirror, staring at me. It looked like he wanted help. I thought I was going crazy. I screamed so loudly it broke my mirror."

"What time did this happen?"

"Around two-thirty."

Caleb grows quiet for a long time after my story finishes and studies my expression. He sighs after a minute and runs a hand through his inky hair. "I heard it," he murmurs.

"What?" I gawk.

"I heard you scream. It was like an echo, but I felt it deep in my chest. We all did."

"We?" I repeat. "You mean the other boys?"

He nods. "I called them after it happened. They said they heard it too, at the exact same time I did."

I squeeze the box tightly in my hands, cardboard bending by the force. "Is this...normal?" I ask tentatively, uncertain if he'd openly talk to me about his powers.

He thinks for a moment. "No. Not really. I mean, we're warlocks, but our senses don't usually reach out this far. This never happened before."

Never happened before, his words repeat in my head. So what does this mean? "Maybe it's nothing," I suggest, curling my toes inside my shoes. The rubber sole squeak on the linoleum. "It has to be a coincidence...right?"

Caleb's lips part to speak, but then Kate bounces around the corner, grinning from ear to ear like she'd just written something juicy in her burn book. "What are you two gossiping about?" She chimes in a high voice.

I quickly rack my brain for a cover up. "Oh, just about how fake Michelle Rowley's implants are."

Caleb fakes a believable smile as Kate giggles. "Oh god, tell me about it."

I force a laugh and wait in line to pay for my mom's tampons, then trail behind the others as they file out of the shop. They bid their goodbyes for the while while I awkwardly wave mine. Now that I have what I came here for, it's time to get back to mom and tie up the rest of our loose ends. The bank is only two blocks away. Mom's still talking with a teller when I walk through the double doors, sitting on one of those scratchy chairs in the corner. It looks like she's making out a check. Her cursive writing shows that thousands of dollars are being thrown down, but she quickly slides the paper to the employee before I can see who it's made out to.

Hmm. Suspicious?

I think yes.

0000

At home, my dad installs a brand new mirror on my vanity top. It's bigger and wider than my old one, with round edges instead of square. It makes my room look fluorescent. I spend ten minutes running my hand over the smooth, spotless surface, curling my short fingernails over the space where the dead boy appeared, trapped in what seemed like another dimension. The memory is still fresh and haunts me throughout the day, no matter what I do. I can't hear a stranger's voice without jumping a mile in the air.

A breeze feels like ghostly fingertips dancing across my skin, raising the tiny hairs on the back of my neck. Thinking is more of a recipe for disaster than a process of calmness. After a while, I grab a jacket from my closet and head downstairs to meet my dad at his car. I still have to go with him to the mechanic's garage. Something about his check engine light going off. The foils of car trouble. Oh, well. At least he's going to buy me dinner afterwards.

The ride to the shop is a quiet one. I forgot my mp3 player, so I'm forced to listen to whatever jazz station my dad tunes the radio to. It all sounds like elevator music, but I find myself tapping my foot to the bass. Somehow Sade always gets me jammin'. I roll the windows completely down so the wind can cool off my warm face and push the annoying wisps of hair away from my temple. The mechanics garage isn't that far of a drive. If I had the right shoes, I could easily walk there. But I'm not athletically enthusiastic to make the journey. Honestly, I didn't want to come along in the first place, but dad has odd ways of poaching my company. This time he used food. Clever.

We pull up to the shop ten minutes later. It doesn't look very busy, which is good. I really don't feel like waiting around forever and missing our dinner date. An old greasy looking guy comes up to us as we walk to the garage. A blue oil stained rag is clutched in his right hand and he uses it to wipe the sweat off his forehead. He must be the owner. Dad and him chat over problems with his car, wagering prices. The words they use don't make a lick of sense to me. Automotive talk. I stand there quietly, shivering from the chill and wishing I had my mp3 player more than anything.

After a while, they walk to the garage where a car is already being tinkered with and I follow closely behind. It reeks of spoiled beer, cigarette smoke, and sweaty men. Great. At this point, I'll never have an appetite for dinner.

"It'll take about an hour or so," the greasy dude tells my dad. "One of my boys will work on it right away." He glances over his shoulder at someone. "Parry!"

In my stupid, slow mind, the name doesn't click right away. Until the said guy turns around from the bike he was messing with. He takes two steps toward us and freezes. His dark eyes fall on me, broad shoulders that are surprisingly not clad in leather stiffening. Our gaze meet simultaneously.

Pogue.

I blink once in surprise. Heat floods my cheeks. "Oh, hi," I mutter.

"Hi," Pogue says just as guardedly.

The old guy's eyebrows raise suggestively. "Friend of yours?" He asks Pogue.

The handsome teen raises and drops one shoulder. They're slightly damp with perspiration. Mother of god. "We go to school together."

"Hmph," the owner mumbles and turns to my dad, who's pulling out his wallet. They walk off to make an advanced payment and my legs scream to follow, but I can't move from my spot. I'm rooted here. And Pogue is still staring at me. Geez.

"What are you doing here?" We say at the same time. "I asked you first," and again.

Well, this is awkward, I think to myself and scratch the side of my neck. We gaze at each other with uncertainty for a few seconds, weighing who will crack first.

I lose. "My dad needed his car fixed," I say after a moment of unwavering silence.

"Yeah, I figured," he answers sarcastically.

I glare at him. Smartass. "So what's your excuse?"

"I work here."

"Since when?"

"Last summer."

"Oh," I mutter and the conversation quickly dies as he turns and strides over to my dad's car occupying the empty space in the garage. He opens the hood, flicks up the metal rod and surveys the damage. Black gunk sticks to his fingers. Ew.

His bike sits alone and unfinished toward the side, tools scattered everywhere and oil smeared on the cement. It looks like he was right in the middle of fixing something. I approach it slowly, keeping my hands to myself and just gaze at it wondrously. Remembering how fast it went the night he took me home makes want to ride it again. The color is just so bright and entrancing.

Pogue notices my fascination. "You like bikes?"

"Yeah, they're pretty cool," I say. "If they don't almost kill me." He chuckles deeply then, low, but so masculine. It should be a federal crime to have a laugh that sexy. Good god, focus, Cora. I lightly clear my throat and turn to him as he starts fiddling with something under dad's car hood, eyeing the way his biceps flex every time he moves his arms. Sweet Jesus. "Is something wrong with it?" I incline my head to his flashy motor vehicle.

"The brakes are a little faulty," he tells me and pulls back from the hood. So we could have spun out of control or collided with a mack truck when he was driving me home last night? How comforting. Remind me not to hitch a ride with him again.

"So why a bike?" I inquire curiously.

"What?"

"Why get a bike instead of a car? That doesn't seem practical."

He shrugs. "It was my dad's."

"He gave it to you?"

"Yeah," he replies and wipes the excess oil on his faded jeans. They hug his legs very nicely. Holy hell, I need to stop. "Sixteenth birthday."

Lucky bastard. "Awesome," I remark in awe. "Wish I had something better than my useless Prius."

"What's wrong with it?"

"It breaks down a lot."

"Shit, that must be rough," Pogue comments, still ducked under the hood. "Let me know whenever you need a lift," he says and pulls back from the engine. His voice lowers a little. "I'll give you a ride anytime." I raise my eyebrows at the suggestive context, pulse pounding, which he seems to catch and clears his throat. "Uh, I meant-"

I cut him off stiffly, leaning the passenger door. "Yeah, I know what you meant." And it nearly made my ovaries explode.

We gaze at each other for a minute before turning away. Minutes pass in uncomfortable silence.

Pogue continues working on the car, occasionally switching out tools or drying his oil grimed hands on a small towel. I keep my position on the door, pretending to inspect my nails, but really watch him out of the corner of my eye as he fixes up the problems. The atmosphere has definitely turned awkward. It's like I walked into a den full of lions when I'm just a gazelle. Uncharted and very off limit territory. I should be keeping my distance from this guy, not frothing at mouth by his glorious physique. His shoulders look so broad in that muscle shirt. God, I need to stop. Even mental flirting is a breach of the girl code.

I don't know why he bothers me like this. And it's only when we lock irises. It makes me feel so...naked. I'm not down with that kind of public indecency. But more than anything, I'm wondering if he's thinking about what happened last night as much as I am. He did hear me scream. Is that why he looked so uncomfortable when he saw me earlier? I want to ask him, but not here. Not in public. So we both stay quiet, until the silence becomes too bleak for me to tolerate.

"So, um," I begin lamely. "Have you known the boys long?"

"Yeah. We sort of grew up together."

"That's heartwarming."

He rolls his eyes. "So, about that night..."

I hold my breathe, waiting him to finally mention the elephant in the room. Figuratively speaking. Duh. "What about it?"

"What were you doing at the party?"

"What do you mean?"

"Not too many girls like you go-"

"Girls like me?" I echo. "What do you mean girls like me?"

Pogue sighs and wipes his oil slick hands on on rag. "You know what I mean. Nice girls like you."

"Oh, and Kate's not nice?" I oughta kick him in the balls for that.

"That's not what I said."

"Then what are you talking about?"

"Christ, you're a pain in the ass, you know that?" Pogue remarks pointedly, though playfulness is in his eyes.

I just glare at him. "Yes. I do."

We stare at each for a second, tense, and a little uneasy. The more my eyes narrow, the wider his grin grows. His smile is so beautiful...wait, no, stop. I'm supposed to be annoyed with him right now. "What are you smirking at?"

He shrugs, not saying anything, and stares at me for what seems like infinity until my cheeks flush and I sever contact. His smoulder is so intense, I can't meet it levally without looking at my shoes instead. A chunky knot forms in my stomach, tingly and aching. Damn it. It's happening again. That radioactive feeling I get whenever he looks at me. My body warms and the lines in my palms wets with perspiration. What does this mean? Is it his magical powers that are causing this? Or does my screaming like a mental person the other night have something to do with it?

There's so many questions, but I don't know when will be the right time to ask them.

"Look, all I'm saying is that you're-" Pogue starts, halfway hidden under the hood again. He ponders for the right word. "Sensible. Not a lot of girls at Spenser are like that."

"Except Kate," I add tersely.

"Yeah," he mutters, and there's an unreadable layer to his tone. "Except Kate."

We don't speak much after that. The soft tinkering of tools goes on, with a radio playing faintly in the background and the occasional swearing mechanic. After an hour or so, my dad and the owner walk in, talking animatedly. They shake hands as Pogue closes the hood and tucks the filthy rag in his back pocket. I move over to my dad, hearing Pogue follow after a moment, and stand close behind.

"Everything looking okay?" The owner asks.

Pogue nods and crosses his arms. "Looks good to me."

"Bring her back if you start hearin' some noises," the owner tells my dad. "Could be a loose fan belt." It always weirds me out that some mechanics refer automobiles as a 'her' or 'she'. It's an it for God's sake.

Dad dips his head once and puts a hand on my back. "Thank you again. Let's go, honey."

He guides me out of the garage as one of the workers backs the car into the parking lot. The owner hands the keys back to dad. I glance over my shoulder at Pogue, finding him leaning against the garage frame with his arms crossed. He's already looking at me. "See you at school?" I tell him.

"Guaranteed," he says and smirks. My stomach flips and I try to smile naturally, but it just makes me feel dumb, so I hop in the passengers seat before the shame meter can go any higher. My face flushes as I buckle the seat belt in and dad starts the engine. He doesn't notice the blush in my cheeks, which I'm grateful for. Oblivious fathers are heaven sent.

As we drive home, I lean my cheek against the window pane and replay the conversation I had with Pogue in my head. His voice, eyes, lips and body are so...hypnotic. Every detail about him sends my blood pumping. It's like I just met a member from 98 Degrees. No other boy has made me feel so giddy. Not even Cole, as sad as that sounds, who was my first and only real boyfriend. It sounds so wrong, but I don't know how to get rid of these thoughts of him. He's just so ridiculously charming and oozes this grungy appeal.

Yep, I'm definitely attracted to my best friend's boyfriend.

There's a warm place in hell for me.

A/N: Thank you so much for all the feedback! I hope everyone liked this chapter. I had a great time working on it. Am I writing everyone okay?

I know some people don't like reading stories that covers the whole movie, but there's going to be a lot of twists and turns to keep things interesting and different. Hopefully it comes out okay. :) While I'm going for this whole off limits type relationship thing, I don't want Pogue to cheat on Kate with Cora (seriously no one deserves that). Instead they'll be fighting their feelings until things start to turn sour for Pogue and Kate. You can guess what happens after that. :D

Next chapter: Cora runs into an old flame.

Thanks for reading!