"At the end of the day, you can either focus on what's tearing you apart or what's holding you together."


Chapter 14: Pieces

They say bad things happen for a reason, but no wise word's gonna stop the bleeding.


Lucy opens her eyes and blinks a few times, inhaling deeply as she looks at her surroundings. Posters and drawings cover most of the wall space in the room, and the floor is littered with crumpled paper from sketchpads, charcoal pencils, erasers, and other fancy art tools that she doesn't even recognize.

In the early morning silence, she can hear heavy footsteps downstairs as Mr. Garcia gets ready for work. Her heart jumps slightly, but she isn't too worried since Carlos was recently granted a reprieve and given back his door, which is now closed and locked. No one knows she's there. And no one has to. She doesn't want to think about what will happen to her when gets home if Jack realizes she was out all night, but for now she pushes that from her mind. They still have the school day to get through.

She sits up carefully, brushing her fingers through her hair and adjusting the blue t-shirt Carlos had given her to sleep in. The sleeping boy beside her rests on his stomach, breathing deeply and evenly, the sheet bunched around his waist so that she can see the tanned, smooth skin of his back. Resisting the urge to smooth some hair off his forehead, Lucy glances around the room again.

A new-looking sketchpad lies closed on the floor a few feet from the bed, pencils and smudgers scattered around it. Lucy tiptoes toward it, hesitating only because she's unsure if Carlos would appreciate her looking through his things. She picks up the book and hugs it to her chest before returning to the bed, where she sits cross-legged and sets the book down in front of her. She watched as Carlos shifts in his sleep. He doesn't wake, and this time she does push the hair out of his face before giving him a feather soft kiss on his forehead that he neither feels nor reacts to.

The first few pages of the book contain generic drawings of things in his room—still-lifes of his book shelf, his action figures, his hockey gear. But after that, it changes. There's a drawing of his brother sitting at the kitchen table, of his mother and father pulling weeds in their backyard garden, and of the three of them together, laughing about something.

Lucy turns the page and blinks in surprise. It's a picture of her staring off to the side, a cigarette burning in her hand. He's colored this one in a little, so there are light streaks of red in her hair, just like in real life, and her jeans are shaded lightly blue. As she stares down at it and runs her finger over the page, she knows the girl on the page is her, yet she can't help but feel that he's somehow drawn her more beautiful than she is in real life. It takes her a moment to pinpoint how, but when she notices it, tears prick her eyes and she swallows thickly to make them go away. Her eyes don't have that empty look she knows is constantly there; no, he's drawn her with a serene expression. Content. Happy, even. And her arms. There are no scars, no marks, no blemishes running down her arm on the page.

She decides to turn the page before she gets too emotional over this—it's just a fucking picture, she reminds herself—but the next few pages aren't any better. There's another drawing of her, one of her and the other two girls, one of Logan and Kendall, one of James, and one of all four boys in hockey gear that doesn't look like it's totally finished yet. She sees that he's done the same thing in all these drawings too. They look better on the page than they do in real life.

Lucy wonders if it's naïve of Carlos to do this. Instead of drawing everyone as they really are, hasn't he only drawn what he wants to see?

The boy in question shifts again and this time he opens his eyes sleepily, catching her red-handed with the sketchbook in her lap.

"Morning," he says, his voice raspy in the early morning. "What are you doing?"

"Couldn't resist," she murmurs, holding the book for him to see. "You don't mind, right?"

Carlos shakes his head and pushes himself into a sitting position, stretching his arms and yawning widely. "Do you like them?"

"They're amazing. But I have a question." She points down at one of the group pictures. "Why do we look like that?"

"Like what?" Carlos frowns, trying to spot a flaw.

"Everyone's so… happy. Relaxed."

Carlos cocks his head to the side and smiles sadly at her, as if she's missed an obvious point.

"That's usually how everyone looks when we're all together."


He'd been in the hospital for a day, having his vitals tested, being hooked up to fluids, getting blood tests, and even checked for any evidence of self-harm. Everyone was finally satisfied that his health was fine, but he still hadn't been released.

Apparently overdosing on sleeping pills qualified you for a trip to psych-ward suicide watch.

A nurse had been coming to check on him every hour on the hour, entering quietly, waiting for Logan to make eye contact with her before smiling briefly and leaving him to decide how to spend the next fifty-nine minutes.

"Why don't you tell me exactly what happened this week?"

Logan sighs, recounting to the doctor the fight with his parents, his mind not really on the conversation.

His parents had been in and out a couple of times throughout the day, to bring him food and see for themselves that he really was fine, but they hadn't stayed long. Logan wondered if it was because they couldn't bear to look at him since they obviously thought this was another attempt at ending his life. It also might just have been that they didn't have much to say; then again, he wouldn't have had anything to say to them either.

"And did you think it was a good idea, to discard your medication?"

He shrugs his shoulders. "I wasn't really thinking at all…"

He's starting to fret about missing the school day, not because he's worried about his classes, but because no one will have told any of his friends where he is or why he's missing. Camille or Kendall—both, probably—are likely to call and ask about him. What will they think when no one answers at home? Would they go so far as to stop by his house? How is he even going to explain this predicament he's landed himself in?

Hardest question of all: will they believe him when he says it was an accident?

Yes, he answers himself instantly. We don't lie to each other.

Ah, but you don't always tell the whole truth either.

Logan shakes his head to stop himself from continuing the argument. Isn't having conversations with yourself the first sign you're really going crazy?

"What made you decide to take the pills?"

"I wanted to sleep," Logan replies without emotion. It doesn't matter how many times he says it, how insistent he is, or how frustrated he gets; his answer doesn't seem to be good enough for anyone. They continue to ask him, continue to prod him, phrasing the same questions different ways, trying to make him say something he hasn't already said.

"Why couldn't you sleep?"

"I just couldn't stop thinking," he says honestly. "I didn't mean to take that many. I intended to take one dose and get a full night's sleep. I don't know why they didn't work. It was an accident."

"I understand what you're saying, Logan, but you have to understand something, too. Even accidents can be cries for help."

Logan restrains himself from cringing at the phrase. Cry for help. Need for attention. Acting out. All the stereotypical phrases used on suicidal kids when doctors try to find motives for their actions.

"Depression can cause serious disruptions in sleeping patterns," the doctor tells him gently. "Your prescription not only combated your depression, it also helped your body find a stable pattern. In cases like yours, when depression is likely to be abated after the teen years, you would normally be weaned off the medication gradually. You've been having trouble sleeping because your brain received something of a shock when it stopped getting the medication."

"Where are my parents?" Logan changes the subject. "My mother hasn't been in to cry at me for a while."

The doctor affords him a small smile. "They're right outside, waiting for us to finish our conversation, along with another visitor or two, from what I understand."

"What? Who?"

"They'll be in shortly. I just have a few more things to say. I believe that you weren't intentionally trying to harm yourself."

"You do?"

"I do. But I also believe that the consequences of unintended actions can be just as eye-opening, if not more so, than those of intended ones. That's all. I'll let your friends in now."

Logan is still letting the words sink in when Kendall, James, and Carlos enter the room.


Meet you at your place in a half hour? Leaving hospital with the boys in a few.

-Sure thing. See you soon, Jo types back.

:)

She smiles to herself, slipping her phone back into her pocket after reading her last text from Kendall. The grabs the last couple of items she needs from the drugstore and goes to the front to pay, not noticing the boy browsing the cheap sunglasses at the end of the row.

"Hey, Taylor!"

Jo looks up, the too-familiar voice sending an unwanted wave of fear through her chest. She turns her head to watch him approach her, clenching her hands into fists as he gets nearer.

"Don't," she says when he opens his mouth to speak. "Just don't."

"Look, I'm not stalking you or anything, okay? Can we just talk for a minute?"

Jo says nothing but turns her head back to face front. The sales clerk beckons her forward and starts scanning her things. She pays, grabs her bag, and walks out of the store, hoping against hope that he won't follow.

He does, of course.

"C'mon, Taylor. Court? Really?"

If she didn't hate him so much, she would almost think he was genuine; that he just wanted a friendly a chat. She knows better than that, obviously.

"I'm not supposed to talk to you," she finally says, not slowing down her pace at all. "Anything you have to say to me, you can say at the hearing tomorrow."

"Just hear me out," Jett pleads. "It's gonna be really horrible going through it all, don't you think? Everyone hearing the details. Parents. Your boyfriend. My girlfriend."

Jo hesitates for a fraction of a second, looking at him for the first time, but continues walking and remains silent.

"It was a long time ago," he continues determinedly. "I'm sorry, okay? I should have listened to you. It was a huge mistake. If I could go back—"

"Do you have a point here?" She interrupts him, not wanting to let him get into whatever speech he had planned.

"Why go through all this?" Jett asks. "I can see it on your face that you don't really want to go through with it. We both just want to forget it ever happened, right? You could tell them you don't want to testify. It'd be that easy. They'd drop the case, and this can all just go away. We're graduating soon, you know? We never have to see each other again."

Jo stops walking for the first time since leaving the drugstore, considering everything Jett's just told her.

"Leave me alone," she says, moving past him again.

"Look, I really am sorry, okay? Just think about it," he calls after her, letting her round the corner alone.

Her mind races as she leaves him in the distance. Isn't that what she really wanted all along? Not necessarily to punish him. Not to ruin his life. Just to make him understand that what he did wasn't okay. To make him know that he hurt her. She's tired of feeling like a victim… maybe he's right. Maybe all she needed was for him to acknowledge that he was wrong.

She's still deep in thought about the whole thing when Kendall arrives, and she doesn't even hear him come inside. He startles her by saying hello, and she drops her cup of tea, shattering it across the smooth tile of the kitchen floor.

"Sorry," Kendall apologizes. "I didn't mean to scare you." He brushes a soft kiss onto her forehead and goes to retrieve the broom and dustpan from the pantry.

"It's not your fault," Jo exhales loudly. "I'm just distracted."

"Thinking about the hearing tomorrow? You're gonna be fine. Everything's gonna be fine."

"Yeah… I don't know…" She trails off, avoiding his eyes.

"It is," Kendall insists, sweeping the pieces of broken china into the dustpan and dumping it in the trash.

"Kendall… I think this whole thing has just gotten way out of hand."

"What does that mean?" He looks up, trying to catch her eye, but she is steadfastly looking at a spot on the wall about six inches to the right instead of at him.

Jo takes a deep breath. "I'm not going to the hearing tomorrow. Everything… This wasn't supposed to happen. I didn't want it in the first place. I just don't really see the point."

"I do," he says, somewhat angrily. "You know how important this is."

Jo stiffens. "Okay, then you can go," she snaps. "Let me know how it turns out." She moves quickly past him and into the living room.

Kendall follows with the broom still in his hand. "You—you're really not going?" he asks in disbelief.

"Nope."

The blond boy shakes his head, biting his tongue because he doesn't want to start a huge fight, but he drops the broom and walks toward the front door before he says anything he'll regret.

"Kendall," Jo says, surprised by his strong reaction to her decision. She had known he wouldn't like it… But he'd get over it, right?

Kendall pauses. "Don't act like I'm the bad guy here, Jo. You decided to press charges. You needed to do this for closure. What changed?"

"I just… I don't need the trial. It's been a long time, okay? I'm moving on. The whole thing was supposed to be so I could get a grip on my life and get back to normal. I finally feel like I'm getting my old self back. There's nothing that going to court now can do for me."

Kendall looks at her for a minute before. "I don't believe that. And I don't think you do, either." He walks out without another word.


Lucy has to walk by the park on her way home from Carlos' house. In the distance she can make out a lone figure sitting atop the jungle gym, right on the edge of the slide. As she approaches, she realizes who it is, and she wonders if this is coincidence or if he was waiting, hoping she'd walk by.

"Hey," she calls up to him.

"Hey."

"What are you doing here?"

"Nothing," James shrugs. He swings his legs out and eases himself down the slide, coming to a rest at the bottom and staying seated there. "You?"

"On my way home." She pulls out her cigarettes and lights one with trembling fingers, closing her eyes and she takes the first drag. The look on his face says it all, she thinks. The one thing she was trying to prevent happened anyway. He's broken, and she did it to him. "I'm sorry," she murmurs, though he hasn't said anything else.

"What?"

"I didn't mean to fuck everything up for you." Lucy sucks on her cigarette again before continuing. "Everything—the whole thing with Lauren Murray, and things aren't good at home right now, and I think my grandmother's getting sicker—everything's just so fucked, and then I went and made it worse by being with you and going back to him and… I'm just sorry."

"When we were together—that night—"

"It was a mistake," Lucy interrupts him. "I shouldn't have dragged you into my problems. You don't deserve this."

"Lucy—"

"You deserve better."


The hostile glares she can handle. People looking at her everywhere she goes, their whispers behind her back… she can take it.

What she can't handle is Kendall.

Kendall Knight, who lives up to his last name spectacularly by walking with her between every class, even if it means being late to his own, by staring people down in the hallway if they look at her the wrong way, by squeezing her hand to let her he's there for her, whatever she needs.

Kendall Knight, her knight in shining armor, who she knows only wants what's best for her, who stands silently by while she manages to convince herself that she doesn't need this court hearing, even though he thinks she's making the wrong choice.

Is it guilt that's putting her so on edge today? Guilt because she's putting Kendall through this, making him support her even though he disagrees with her?

At her locker after the final bell, Jett walks by, giving her an impassive look, raising his eyebrows and the corners of his mouth ever so slightly, as if he's reading her mind. As if he already knows that she's decided not to speak.

As if he already knows he's won.

Kendall meets her at the locker, not having witnessed the silent exchange between his girlfriend and the object of her hatred, and slides his hand across the small of her back in an effort to be affectionate. Instead she jolts away from, that look of fear flashing across her face as she hugs her body and closes her eyes, trying to block something from her vision that she won't succeed at, because the vision is inside her head, burned into her memories forever, and when Kendall puts a hand on her shoulder, she pulls away again.

"Jo?"

"I have to go," she says, her voice shaking.

"Okay," he replies soothingly. "I'll walk you—"

"No," Jo shakes her head. "I have to go to the hearing."

The look of relief that graces Kendall's face at this news is immediate. "Yeah?"

"I have to go," she repeats.


"Thanks for being here, Dad," Jo murmurs quietly.

"Where else would I be, sweetie?" Mr. Taylor pulls her close to him and gives her a hug that she wholeheartedly returns.

"I just want this all to end."

"And it will," he reassures her.

"Yeah, when he goes to jail," she mutters bitterly.

"Just remember what we talked about with your counselors, alright? About why you decided to do this: to get some closure, and to feel heard."

"I know."

Another voice breaks into their conversation from a few yards away. "Jo!"

She looks around to find Kendall walking towards them quickly as they stand outside the court building.

"Hey, Jo. Hi, Mr. Taylor," Kendall shakes her father's hand quickly, before the older man is pulled away to go over something with one of the lawyers.

An expensive-looking red car pulls into the parking lot, and the two teenagers watch as Jett emerges with his parents.

"I hate him so much," Kendall says softly.

Jo's knees have suddenly gone shaky. "You should go home, Kendall. I don't want you hearing all this."

Kendall rolls his eyes at her. "Not a chance. I know what happened."

"Not the details," she says, her voice rising an octave. "You don't need to hear how everything went down, or picture it all. Because once you do, you'll never be able to unsee it, okay? You'll always look at me differently, until you can't take it anymore and dump me, and then I'll grow old and die alone with no one but my eight cats."

"I am not gonna dump you," he tells her, smiling a little at her unfounded hysteria. "I could never dump a girl as great as you, and you being here, doing this, makes you about the greatest girl there is."

He takes her hand in both of his and kisses it lightly, earning a small smile from her. "Let's just get this over with."

Jo sits behind a table with her lawyers and her father, while Kendall stays back, sitting behind the barrier that separates the audience from the court proceedings. She's barely listening as the lawyers give their opening statements, her heart threatening to beat right out of her chest.

She gets on the stand and takes the oath, swearing to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help her God. She forces herself not to look towards Jett, or towards Kendall, or anything that might distract her.

"Miss Taylor," Jett's lawyer begins. "The night of the alleged incident, did you go upstairs willingly with my client? Did you not, in fact, suggest it?"

"Y-yes," Jo stammers. "I—I did."

"Why did you do that?"

"I just—I thought we'd…"

"Yes?"

Jo struggles to find an answer, swallowing thickly, her mouth dry and her brain seeming to freeze up.

"Let me rephrase," the stern-looking woman says. "What were your intentions, Miss Taylor, in going up to that room that night?"

"I just thought we'd be alone together," Jo says.

"And you found my client attractive? You were excited about the prospect of, as you say, being alone together with him?"

This time she can't stop herself from glancing at Kendall, wishing he didn't have to hear this, especially from her.

"I did, yes. Before. I wanted to be there." She can't read his expression, doesn't have time to process it before being prodded with the next question.

"When Mr. Stetson began to make physical advances toward you, did you immediately reject him, or give him any indication that you wanted him to stop?"

"No," she says in a small voice.

"This is all very difficult for you, I'm sure," the woman says in an almost comforting way. "Not to be graphic, but when my client began to touch you, how did you react? Did you enjoy it?"

"No," Jo responds immediately, looking at Kendall again. He's not looking at her, though. His tense gaze is on the floor.

"No? Remember, you're under oath, Miss Taylor."

Even her father can't look at her when she answers. "At first, I did." She can feel her face heating up as she is forced to give these private details to a roomful of people that includes her boyfriend and her father and Jett's parents, and some random security guards and who knows who else.

"Ah ha. Miss Taylor, did Mr. Stetson ever threaten you with bodily harm, or use any weapons or other objects to force you to stay there?"

"No."

"Did Mr. Stetson use a condom?"

"Yes," Jo answers, anger threatening to boil into her response. "But that doesn't—"

"So you're saying my client managed to locate and open the condom, and undress himself and you without ever offering you a chance to get away, if that is, in fact, what you wanted?"

"I said 'No,'" Jo says, louder than before. "I wanted to stop him, but he's bigger than me, and stronger! I was afraid. I didn't—I wasn't sure…"

"Miss Taylor, how many men have you had sexual encounters with?"

The question throws her off, but before she can even open her mouth, her lawyer is on his feet.

"Objection. That is an irrelevant question."

"I'll answer it," Jo hears herself say, unsure of what's come over her. She looks directly at the woman standing in front of her. "That was, and remains, my only experience." She looks toward Jett, whose smug expression is nowhere to be found as she continues heatedly. "And I would not have chosen to lose my virginity upstairs at a house party with someone I'd barely even met."

"No further questions."


"You know, you really scared the hell out of all of us," Camille says with a sad smile.

"I know," Logan replies earnestly. "Believe me, I know. Kendall really let me have it yesterday."

"Good. Now I don't have to."

"What is this, a good cop/bad cop routine?"

"Oh, definitely," the thin girl smirks before cupping his face and leaning in. She kisses him right on the mouth without hesitation or any trace of embarrassment this time, pulling away only after gripping a handful of his shirt near his shoulder. "And I think you'll find that I play the part of 'good cop' very well."

"Uh… yeah. You really do," Logan says with a raspy voice, surprise written all over his face. "What was that for?"

"Partially because I'm just really glad that you're okay, and partially because we never really got to finish what we started in your room at the Palm Woods last weekend. You know, before I lost my mind and had a spectacular panic attack."

"You didn't lose your mind," he tells her. "Just a slight setback."

"And you?" She asks. "Is this a slight setback?"

"I don't really know," Logan answers truthfully. "Before… I thought I was fine. I wanted to be fine, you know? I was perfectly happy trying to fix everyone else because I didn't have to sit down and look at myself and really think about whether things were really getting better or if I was just trying to make them better."

"And what have you decided?"

"Something my doctor told me yesterday… even accidents can be cries for help. I used to hate that phrase. Cry for help. It makes me sound like a stereotype. Like a statistic. But I think he was right. He told me that everything has a consequence, even things you don't intend, and you have to learn to deal with that and figure out what they all mean."

Camille waits quietly while he decides what to say next.

"I think," he says slowly, "that maybe my parents were right in not letting me go to California for college. Academically, I could handle it, no problem. I don't mean to brag, but that's just not something I'm worried about. But I got angry and threw away all my meds because we had a fight, because they were telling me things I didn't want to hear, so obviously there are still things that I need to work through if I want to really get better instead of just acting like I'm better."

"So that means…?"

"I'm staying here next year."

"I… wow." Camille exhales slowly. "You're really okay with that?"

"Yeah," Logan says confidently. "I'm staying here, I'm staying in therapy, and I'm gonna work on dealing with myself and my parents and how I handle things and try to get a grip on the fact that I might be a genius, but I don't know everything."


"That was really fast," Jo mutters as the judge returns from her deliberation. "Is that a good thing?"

"It can be," her lawyer replies calmly, his face expressionless.

The judge prepares to speak as everyone retakes their seats.

"Miss Taylor's testimony was extremely compelling, and I would like to applaud her for having the courage and strength to do what she did here today." The judge removes her glasses and rubs her eyes briefly. "It's the kind of case I don't like hear because I fear it discourages other young women from doing the same thing out of fear or hopelessness. However, due to the lack of eyewitnesses and physical evidence presented in the case, I have no choice but to find the defendant not guilty. Mr. Stetson, you are free to go."

Sighs of relief are heard from Jett's parents, the smug look having returned to his face as he leaves the courtroom.


Jo ignores the knock on her door that comes about an hour later. She continues digging through her closet, pulling out clothes at random and leaving them in a big pile in the middle of her bedroom. When the knock comes again, she snaps.

"I don't want to see anyone, Dad! Tell Kendall to go home!"

The door opens. "Was I supposed to hear that?" James walks in, a kind of guiltily embarrassed look on his face.

"Sorry," Jo sighs.

"Spring cleaning?" James asks, pointing to the pile of clothes.

"It's time for a change. I hate everything I own."

"So forget about it. Come out with us. You need to get out of the house. Camille's friend Stephanie invited her to some party and told her to bring anyone. They're celebrating the girls' soccer team making the playoffs."

"Yeah, sure," Jo replies with sarcasm. "I'm sure everyone wants to party with a pathetic, badly-dressed, rape victim loser."

"You're not a loser, Jo. No one's thinking that."

"Well I am. Along with a couple of other things like, 'what's the point?' and 'why did I bother?'" She slumps down on her bed and rests her head in her hands.

"Look, I know how you feel," James begins gently.

"Oh, do you? Really?" Jo laughs maliciously.

"Okay, maybe not exactly how you feel," he amends. "But look. After I got suspended after that big fight, I didn't ever want to show my face around school again, you know? I wanted to just… change my skin. Just stop existing. Not be me anymore. I hated it. But there was nothing I could do. I am who I am. And you are who you are. And you can't just hide out here. Because if you do, you're just gonna give him and all his douchebag friends the satisfaction of knowing they got to you."

"You used to be one of those douchebag friends." She cracks a small smile for the first time.

"Well not anymore. So what do you say? Come out?"

"Yeah, fine. Just give me a few minutes."

"Cool."


James drops off Jo and Kendall in front of the house and drives off down the street to find somewhere to park, leaving them alone for the first time since the verdict had been given.

"Jo, about what happened—"

"Don't," she stops him.

"Look, I'm sorry—"

"We're not talking about this now," she tells him fiercely.

"Okay, okay," Kendall raises his hands in surrender. "Just… if you don't feel up to this, just let me know, alright? You don't have to do this."

"I'm fine, Kendall," Jo says irritably, walking past him and not allowing him to grab her hand like he wanted to.

About fifteen minutes in, Jo regrets coming here. She's not having a good time, and she can tell Kendall isn't either because he's wringing his hands nervously, focusing too intently on his conversations, glancing around the room too often, as if he's afraid he might get caught doing something he's not supposed to. But she ignores the voice in her head that tells her to ask Kendall to take her home, instead marching through the crowd of people toward the kitchen for the cliché red cups full of dubious liquid.

She downs a cup of punch quickly and pours herself another which she sips on more slowly as she looks around. No one's really paying much attention to her, but she can't shake the feeling that everyone somehow knows what happened. The paranoia gets to her and she drains her second cup in a few big gulps and immediately goes back for more.

Kendall, meanwhile, stands distractedly with James, trying to keep his eye on Jo and growing more and more anxious when he loses track of her. They're soon joined by Logan and Camille and Stephanie, who tries not to look too awkward being around all of Camille's friends that she's never met. She offers to go and get some drinks, turning to ask Kendall what he wants.

"Nothing for me," he replies, clenching his hands at his side.

"You sure? It's no big—"

"I'm sure," he says, a little too firmly, because she there's an awkward pause before she says 'okay' and turns to go find cups. "I'm gonna go find Jo," he tells James, raising his voice to be heard over the music and chatter of the crowd.

He finds her sitting on the staircase, and she's not alone. Two guys are talking with her, one of them with his hand on her shoulder, and she's doing nothing to push him away. If anything she looks more at ease than she has all day, speaking animatedly smiling widely. When the guy slips his arm around her waist and leans in close to say something in her ear, Kendall marches over and yanks her away, throwing the guy an ugly look.

Kendall searches for an empty room that they can talk in, opening the first door in the hallway, which must be a guest bedroom because it is immaculately clean, as if no one has been in it in a while.

"Did I make you jealous?" Jo slurs a little bit, grinning at him through heavily lidded eyes. She moves toward him to wrap her arms around his upper body, standing on her tiptoes to give him a sloppy kiss. After a moment he sidesteps her and pushes her away gently.

"What the hell is up with you?" Kendall asks, continuing to try to block her as she slips her hands underneath his shirt, attempting to lift it up and get it off. "What are you doing?"

"What's the big deal?" She steps back and unzips her jacket, shrugging it off and letting it fall to the floor, revealing a tank top that shows a sliver of her stomach. "I'm easy, right? Everyone knows it now. The lawyers, the judge, my father. You've got me alone, Kendall, just do what you want."

Kendall runs his hand through his hair and turns away hopelessly, as if searching for an answer to the current dilemma.

"What? Don't you want me?" Jo asks.

"Not right now, no," Kendall says without hesitation. He means it, too. "Not like this."

"Why not? Because Jett got there first?"

"God, Jo, no! That's not even—you have to stop—"

"Stop what? Stop thinking about it? Just let it go, like someone was rude to me, or bumped into me in the hallway?"

"That's not what I meant!" Kendall raises his voice slightly to make her listen. "You're scaring me, Jo! I just want the old you back!"

"You don't even know the old me!" Jo yells. "The old me went upstairs with a guy that night, alright? And she never came back."

"Jo—"

"Just get out of here, Kendall," she cuts him off.

"I'm not leaving you here alone."

"Get OUT!" She shouts. "GO!" She shoves him in the chest and he retreats a few steps, but he isn't ready to give up yet.

"Jo, stop it! Just stop, alright? I know what you're trying to do, and it's not gonna work! You're not gonna scare me away! I'm not going anywhere."

The girl's eyes fill with tears and she covers her face with her hands, flinching only slightly when Kendall approaches her and envelops her in a tight embrace.

"I'm sorry," she cries into his chest. "I'm sorry…"

"Shh," he hushes her. "Don't. You don't have anything to be sorry for."

Kendall wipes away her tears with his thumb, waiting for her breathing to even out before suggesting they go home.

"Come on, I'll walk you. I'll text James on the way."


It shouldn't surprise her that Carlos is nowhere to be found. But after all, he never can resist a good party.

Lucy searches in the depths of her pocket for the small pill she brought for the occasion, popping into her mouth and washing it down with the punch that everyone seems to be drinking. She looks up and finds that Camille has witnessed her action, and shrugs her shoulders in her direction. Annoyed that Carlos hasn't sought her out, Lucy uncrosses her legs and stands, somewhat unsteadily, deciding to wander around and see if she can find him.

When she does, she doesn't like what she finds.

In the back corner of the dark room, Lucy sees Carlos swaying to heavy beat of the music with Stephanie, who's grinding against him as he grips her waist. Suddenly, Stephanie turns and reaches for Carlos, kissing him hard while they dance.

Any second now, Lucy thinks, expecting Carlos to break the kiss, take a step back, push her away. Anything. She stands rooted to the spot, unable to move or speak, just watching as Stephanie practically gropes at Carlos and he does nothing to dissuade her.

Finally she turns swiftly and tries to stalk away, bumping into a concerned-looking Camille, and then jostling James as she makes her way out of the party and through the front door to go home. Camille follows her, grabbing her arm to get her to stop fleeing.

"Lucy! What happened?"

"Don't act like you didn't see," Lucy spits. "Your slut friend in there was all over him! And he didn't do anything to stop her."

"Don't call her that," Camille defends her friend. "And what did you really expect? It's Carlos."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"You know what it means," she says softly. "You might be… together… but he's still… him. Nothing's gonna change that. You might calm him down a little, but he's always gonna be Carlos."

"I don't want to change him! I just thought—after the whole thing with Wayne, and then James—I thought I made it clear that I chose him. I don't think it's asking too much for him to choose me, too. Guess I shouldn't be surprised, though. You're right. He is who he is."

"You shouldn't be surprised," Camille says. "But that doesn't mean you can't be hurt. The thing is, though… he's not really yours, you know? He'll never belong to anyone, Lucy. That's why you picked him, isn't it? Because you know you'll never have to give yourself completely to him. But I think deep down you know that he's not the one you really want."

"You don't know what you're talking about," Lucy retorts automatically. "You don't know what I want."

"Maybe not. But are you sure you do?"


When they get home, Kendall turns the key and opens the front door for Jo, holding her hand the whole way to her room. He opens her dresser drawer and pulls out a t-shirt and a pair of pajama shorts for her to change into. Her head is still foggy from drinking, and she begins stripping off without telling Kendall to turn around or close his eyes. He turns his back politely, scratching the back of his neck, waiting for her to finish so he can get her to bed.

Jo wraps her arms around him from behind, startling him slightly.

"Can you stay?"

"I, um… I don't know if that's a good idea," Kendall murmurs. "What about your dad?"

"Please? Just to sleep. I don't want to be alone tonight."

"Okay," he relents. "Yeah. Of course."

"Thank you," Jo whispers.

Kendall shoots a text to his mom explaining where he is and kicks off his shoes, sliding fully-clothed into bed beside Jo, who curls into his side immediately and closes her eyes. He kisses the top of her head softly and listens to her breathe, his chest rising and falling to match hers. He's barely starting to nod off when he hears it.

"I love you, Kendall Knight," Jo says quietly but clearly.

"Love you, too, Jo Taylor."


Annnnnd, boom. Another chapter. I'm pretty proud of how quickly this went up. THANK YOU so much for all the lovely comments on the last chapter, I know I ended that one on a bit of a cliffhanger. Hope you enjoyed this one! Please let me know what you thought!