The days following, I went about like I normally would—or, at least I acted like I did.

After the day I met Julia Mars, I was constantly aware as to where she was in relation to me—or, at least, I tried to be.

My friends and I gathered at my house yet again. My mom was more lenient, since I obeyed her and went to the neighbor's house that day. It was getting close to 7:30 P.M. and soon, the group would split up to have dinner at our own houses. I waded into the kitchen where my mom stood, intently stirring some sort of sauce and vegetable in a pan. I leaned up against the sink. "Hey."

She glanced over and smiled a bit. "Hi?"

I chewed on the corner of my bottom lip, trying to phrase the question I had in mind. I knew that my mother kept looking at me, but there was no impatience or disgust in her stature. That was one of the things that I loved about my mother: no matter how strange I got, I knew that she loved me, and she appreciated the mere fact that I wanted to come in and talk to her about something. She could see it in my eyes. "I know we can't tonight, but, uh…"

She smiled a little bit more, setting her wooden spoon down on the metal stovetop and sifting through the seasoning shelf. "But what?"

"Do you think one of these nights we could invite the Mars's over for dinner?"

Her eyebrows rose with surprise; clearly, that wasn't something she expected from me, at all. She grabbed for a glass bottle of sesame seeds. "Oh! Uh…that would be nice." She chuckled. "I'm just kind of surprised that you'd be asking."

I gave a slight shrug. "Julia and I didn't really get to talk, remember?"

"So this is about Julia, huh?" The smile on her face turned into a smirk as she sprinkled the seeds on and stirred.

I felt a burning in my cheekbones. Ever since the ordeal on her porch that day, I'd been fascinated by Julia Mars. I couldn't get her out of my mind, the littlest details preserved in my memories; the perfect lines of eye makeup that rimmed her lids, the slight pout to her lips, the one little wave of hair on the far part of her bangs that she probably missed when she straightened it, the way one sleeve of her fishnet shirt crept halfway over the top of her hand while the other was bunched a bit by her wrist, the curve of her sides, the almost distant look in her amber-brown eyes when she spoke to us…why did she close the door like that? Like she was politely declining but wanting us to leave immediately? I wanted to get to know her more, but there was no way of doing it.

"What, is she cute?"

"No." I lied.

My mom beamed, and I could tell that she heard the defensiveness in my tone. She chose not to make note of it, though. "Well, how about when your friends all leave, you go across the street and ask them to come over for dinner tomorrow?"

I beamed and agreed to it immediately. For a second, I remembered the first time my mother asked me to go to their house, when she practically had to beg me before I agreed to it. Now, I was the one begging for a reason to go there, and she provided me with one.

I'd never been so happy to see my friends leave before. The moment they were all gone, I went into the bathroom, adjusted my eyeliner and changed into a nicer-looking black T-shirt. Mom yelled at me, once again, to put my glasses on, and with that, I was at the door.

Nearly running across the street, I worded my greeting in my head. However, I'd planned for Julia to answer the door, and instead, her father opened the door. "Hey Eli!" He smiled.

"Hey," I beamed, ignoring the disappointment that etched in my gut. "Um, my mom sent me."

His smile faltered a bit. "Oh, is this about Julia again? Sorry about last time. I don't know what's gotten into her."

"No," I shook my head. "That's okay. Uh…we were just wondering if you guys would like to come over for dinner tomorrow? You and Julia and…I don't know if you have a wife or anything…"

He smiled, a sad glint in his eyes. "Sadly, no. It's just me and my two girls."

"Oh." Not gonna lie, I was half-expecting him to politely decline and close the door. However, I figured that he was more mature than that.

I was surprised when he broke out in another grin, though. "We'd love to. Tell your mother that we'll bring dessert."

"Awesome," I beamed, and with a few more words, I turned back to run back to my house, hope clear in my chest.

"Eli, can you set the table?" My mom asked from the kitchen. Knowing that we had people coming over, she'd been slaving over dinner for hours. I'd woken up to the smell of tomato sauce and fresh breadcrumb. I felt useless, sitting around the house in my pajamas, watching music videos as my mom cooked, refusing help.

My dad wasn't around very often, and today wasn't an exception. He worked an office job for a record label. He wasn't really in the musical hierarchy, but he made enough money, and he brought home new music for me to listen to. Even though he was out all day, and usually all night, he made sure to put in for early leave that night.

I wasn't sure how I felt about that, to be honest. My dad really wasn't my favorite person in the world. We didn't talk much, and we didn't have one of those close father-son relationships. We never did. I thought it was just because he was always disappointed in me, but as we got older, my mother explained the problem. He'd never wanted kids, even before they got married. He even got a vasectomy against my mother's will to make sure that they wouldn't be able to have kids. She didn't know this until she got pregnant with me, and he started freaking out. It turned out that the surgery was botched. While they had disconnected his urethra from his testicles, where sperm is produced, they didn't do a good job of cutting off the seminal vesicle, where sperm is kept once its made. There was still a bit of connecting tissue and the doctors said that there is a slim—but still possible—chance of sperm coming out from it and impregnating my mother.

As gross as it was to think about, I had to know why my father resented me. He was always proud of me, and I was sure that he loved me, but never like a father loves his son. More like an uncle to a nephew, or a teacher to his student. He was always so distant, and it just made me want to strive to be closer to him.

Maybe that was why I was so determined to get closer to Julia. She shared that at-a-distance trait, and I wanted to overcome it.

…But I digress.

He made sure to be home by six, when the Mars's were supposed to come over. By five-thirty, I was freshly-showered, newly-blackened hair straightened, eyeliner perfect, glasses on face, in a red button-down with a black vest and a pair of black, skinny-fit pants. I didn't wear shoes in my house, but I at least made sure my socks matched. I wanted to look presentable.

Usually, at dinnertime, my mother and I eat in the kitchen. We had a small wooden table with three chairs, even though my dad's chair was usually empty. However, when we had company, we took all of the storage off of the dining room table and tidied it up. It was a nice room, when it use. It was longer than it was wide, with cranberry-red walls and a polished, dark granite floor. We had a chandelier hanging from the high ceiling and a glass table with iron legs. It was probably the fanciest room in the house, and with good reason, since it was the one that we kept guests herded in.

I set the table using our good plates and silverware, making sure that each place setting was symmetrical. I wanted our family to make a good impression on them. Mom put a pan of baked ziti into the oven, as well as a tray of chicken cutlet parmesan, when the doorbell rang. She looked at me and smiled, knowing that I wanted to answer it. I rolled my eyes, but she could tell that I was mentally thanking her.

Mr. Mars looked bright and old as ever, but there were less dark circles under his eyes, and the smile on his face didn't fail him. "Hey Eli!" He held out a box wrapped in twine. "I told you I'd bring dessert."

"And you didn't dissappoint," I smirked, taking the box from him. "I'm kind of surprised that you learned my name."

"I never forget a name," He told me. "I could tell you each and every person that I've ever had to work on. I'm not good with faces, but names I'm good with."

"Well, I'm sure not all of the people you worked with had faces."

He smirked. "Mortician humor. I like you, kid."

"Thank you, sir," And I stepped aside, politely letting him through, two young girls following behind. The first had to be about four years old, but she looked so much like her sister that it was ridiculous. She long black hair had big brown eyes and a wide smile with her baby teeth spaced a little apart from one another. She was wearing a little white dress with pink flowers on the puffy tulle skirt and a black shrug. She also wore black tap shoes, which I found as she walked in on the tile floor.

Then, Julia followed, and just like the last time I saw her, she was a vision. Her hair was straightened and down, and her makeup was a lot thinner, so I got to see the natural beauty to her face. She only wore eyeliner and a thin brush of grey shadow, and her lips were bare. It made her look even prettier. She wore a short-sleeved black blouse, a lacey black skirt with matching gloves, a pair of red leggings, and a pair of black leather platform boots that made her a couple of inches taller than me. I gaped a bit as she walked by, quickly closing my mouth and closing the door in hopes that she wouldn't see.

Dinner was…awkward…to say the least. My dad came home and sat at the head of the table, my mother on his right and Mr. Mars on his left. Audrilily (pronounced AWE-dri-lily) sat next to him to ensure that she didn't make a mess, and Julia sat next to her. I was next to my mom, across the table from Audrilily. Of course, that disappointed me, but there was nothing to say about that.

My mom served the pasta and chicken. Mr. Mars and Julia complimented the food tenfold. Audrilily complained that she didn't like it. Mr. Mars tried to make her eat it, saying that she was being 'rude', but the little girl just fussed. My mom chuckled, saying that she knew what it was like to raise young kids, so she went inside to microwave some chicken nuggets for her.

Most of the conversations that took place were between my parents and Mr. Mars, with mild interruptions from Audrilily and a little bit of input from Julia and myself. I couldn't help but keep looking at her, but each time I did, I noticed that her eyes weren't on mine. Even when I thought she was looking in my direction and I glanced her way, I saw that she wasn't.

My mom and I undressed the table when everyone was finished and my dad started up a pot of coffee. Mr. Mars opened his bakery box to reveal a chocolate-glazed cheesecake. Audrilily started pouting, saying that she didn't like it. Mr. Mars groaned. "Audrey, it's not like Mrs. Goldsworthy can make you a whole new dessert like she did for dinner."

"But I don't like cheesecake!" She whined.

Mr. Mars groaned and looked apologetically at my parents. "I'm sorry. She's usually a good girl. She's just a picky eater."

"It's okay," My mom said. "If you want, I can go pick something up for her?"

"No, don't," He shook his head, looking back at Julia. "Jewels?"

"Yeah?" She asked, sitting attentively at the table.

"Can you go back to our house and get Audrey's cookies?"

Her response nearly made me drop the stack of plates in my hands. "Can Elijah come with me?"

I looked up at my mom, who was taking the dishes from my hands. She smiled. "Of course!"

Julia smiled, content, but still didn't look me in the eyes. She stood up and waved me in her direction. I followed.

The three-inch heel on her platform boots made her walk a little slow, and still, we walked in silence. Halfway across the street, I spoke. "Why did you ask me to come with you?"

She shrugged nonchalantly. "I want to get to know you?"

"If you want to get to know me, then why didn't you come with us the other day when we asked you to?"

She smirked. "Because I want to get to know you before I get to know your friends."

I stared at her. "Okay?"

"I think my dad left the cookies in the hearse."

I blinked. "He drives a hearse?"

"He's a mortician, remember?" She cocked an eyebrow as we approached the garage.

"I didn't know that meant he drove the funeral cars, too," I admitted.

"Well, he doesn't usually," She clarified, grabbing for the bottom handle of the garage door. "But we he's certified for driving one, so in case they need a hearse driver short-notice, they have my dad on speed dial." As she opened the door, the hearse in question came into view. It was bigger than a regular car, with a kind of dull black paint job. Its top was soft with silver black handles on both sides. It was pretty typical, as far as funeral cars go, and it seemed to be in good shape.

"Plus," She added with a sly smile. "It's great for grocery shopping. It doesn't have a backseat."

"Why not?"

She strolled towards it. "It's made to hold a coffin, so it's just a big empty space. Holds a lot of bags." She grabbed for the swinging doors on the back. "I'd know. I come back here sometimes when things are rough in my house." And she started crawling inside.

I followed after her. "Close the doors?" She asked, and I did. The space was, empty, though. Void of any grocery bags. She kept looking through the crevices, though. "I'm glad you came here with me."

"You are really confusing." I shook my head.

She cocked her head to the side, and in the barely-lit spacious back of the hearse, I could tell that her eyes were on mine. "What do you mean?"

"Well, you rejected us—"

"I didn't reject you," She corrected. "I just didn't want to have to hang out with you for the first time while you were with your friend and girlfriend."

My eyebrows rose. "Girlfriend?"

"Yeah, that little black-haired girl?" She said. "She was looking at you like you're some sort of idol."

I shook my head. "Emily and I aren't dating."

"And the blonde…?"

"I don't have a girlfriend." I grumbled.

She smirked. "Figures."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

She gave a shrug. "You seem weird. Most girls don't go for weird."

My eyes narrowed. "What the hell are you talki—"

"Well?" She raised a brow. "Have you ever had a girlfriend?"

"…No…"

"Ever even kissed a girl?"

"Yes." I lied immediately.

She smirked. "You're lying."

I hoped that she couldn't see my blushing in the darkness. "Am not."

"Oh yeah?" She mused. "Prove it."

I stared at her for a moment. I saw the smile touch her pouty lips, more and more self-satisfied as I sat there, dumbfounded. On an impulse, I moved forward, crawling over the scratchy carpet flooring so that I could place a hand next to her hip. I propelled myself up, pressing my lips to hers.

I felt her gasp a bit and smirked, kissing her. I kind of liked knowing that it surprised her. She smiled, her hands moving up into my hair, playing with it a bit as our lips moved together for a few moments, back and forth.

Finally, I backed off, sitting next to her so that we were shoulder-to-shoulder. For once, she was shorter than me, even if it was only bit a smidgen. "See?"

She laughed and peeled herself off of the side wall of the car. "Point taken. Come on. The cookies aren't in here."

"Well, I can see that," I smirked.

She shook her head. "No, I mean, I knew they weren't from the start." She pushed open the back doors.

I blinked, staring after her. "Wait, then, why did you bring me back here?"

"To get something else that I was looking for." She back at me. "And I did." With that, she hopped out of the car.