It was dark and I was frozen to the bone by the time I bounded up the porch stairs and grabbed the front doorknob. I opened it, and felt the wind rush past me, flooding the house. I stepped in and started to shut the door behind me. Then I paused. I swore I heard, carried in with the wind, the soft ghost of a whisper of the word 'Goodbye'.

I paused and stared out into the black night, shivering in the cold. No one was in sight.

I shut the door slowly and thought of all that had happened, of all that I had learned, as I slowly took off my coat, as I trudged into the kitchen, as I distractedly composed and consumed a cup of hot chocolate. I thought about it all as I climbed the stairs, got ready for bed, and curled up underneath my covers, my body finally thawing.

Despite the early hour, I was utterly exhausted.

The same thoughts swirled, again and again, through my brain.

Lorraine could read minds.

Matthew and Lorraine hadn't existed nearly as long as I had thought. I had existed much longer than them.

And then the most important, the most repetitive thought:

Matthew.

Matthew was in danger of falling in love with me.

He was in danger of falling in love - truly in love - with me.

The thought was enough to set my heart racing each time it occurred.

Was I in love with Matthew?

Love was such a complicated thing. It had so many angles, and there were so many different kinds of it.

There was the shallowest version of love that I felt for my friends - it was the same love I had for my belongings - not deep or sincere.

There was the affection and fondness I had for people like my Aunt, for my brother. I had come close to feeling it towards several boys more than once, but never completely.

There was the deep, painful love I had had for my parents.

And then there was the love that everyone talked about. The one that had you willing to kill yourself, to die a painful death, to suffer immeasurable amounts, if it would help the possessor of your love. It was a love that had you shaking with happiness. It was a love that would take over your life, that gave it new meaning, and joy; it was a love that - should it's subject die or leave - would end your life, and all meaning in it. It was passionate, intense, deep, and reverberating. It was romantic and sexy, and left your heart an inferno of passionate, burning love.

Was that the way I felt about Matthew?

I thought about the way I felt when I was around him.

I was always on edge, my emotions always a mess. I felt overwhelming attraction - not just for his looks - but for him, for his soft, gravely laugh, for his mood changes, for his deep, liquid-brown eyes, for his quick temper, for his thoughtfulness, for the way his eyebrows pushed together when he was uncertain of something, for his habit of of rolling his eyes, for his utter masculinity, for his often-present childlike impatience, for his obvious desire to protect me, for how smart he was, for his warm, friendly personality. For his gentleness. For everything about him.

I knew that it was too late for me not to love him; I did. But what kind of love? Was I in love with him?

Whenever I was around him, under the attraction I felt a sense of those oncoming passionate and intense feelings of the deepest of loves. Was it possible that all that was there, just waiting for me to let myself completely go before rushing out and overtaking me?

I knew, instinctively, the answer. Yes. YES! I could fall in love with Matthew. I could fall more deeply in love with him than that I'd have ever thought possible - and it would just take a slight shift in my thinking process. But could I trust him enough, could I take that kind of a risk?

The question tormented me until I felt the heaviness of my exhaustion pulling on my eyelids.

Slowly, slowly, I drifted off to sleep.

I dreamed of Matthew.

I woke up with the sun the next morning and sped through my morning routine.

I was determined to get to school early, to not waste a single minute with Matthew Black.

A half an hour early than I usually would have, I whipped on my coat, spun my scarf around my neck, slapped on my hat, slung my bag over my shoulder, rushed out the door, and practically skipped down the porch stairs in my haste to get to my destination as early as possible.

I began a brisk walk towards the school.

What if Matthew was there early? I didn't want to miss a single second of potential time with him.

I should have kissed him the night before.

Then again, it was a good thing I hadn't. I wasn't ready to get that far with him yet; I still wasn't sure I could totally trust him.

I sighed, and watched my white, wispy breath dissolve into the surrounding air and shoved my cold hands into my coat pockets.

It was a typical December morning, the air crisp, cold, and tight, making it slightly difficult to breathe. How nice it would have been to have Matthew - warm, smoldering Matthew - by my side.

I wasn't a big fan of the cold.

I watched the small, stately houses as I slowly passed them. I observed the fine layer of powdery snow that lightly dusted the lawns, the sidewalks, and the peoples' parked cars.

Then I froze. One of the cars - a sleek, black car parked on the roadside about twenty feet away - was not covered in snow. Its back windows were tinted but I could see through the windshield just fine. In the driver's seat, looking down as if he were reading something in his hands, was Matthew Black.

My mouth dropped open in surprise.

As if he could somehow sense my shock, he slowly lifted his head, and his gaze flickered only slightly around before settling on me. His face flushed and he grinned sheepishly.

"Matthew?" I asked incredulously, doubtful that he would be able to hear my normal tone through twenty feet of light wind and a car's exterior.

He nodded in acknowledgement of my speaking and gestured for me to come closer.

I walked towards the car, mystified as to what he was doing, parked a block and a half from my house, just sitting there.

"Paige," he acknowledged with a grin once I'd arrived at his now-open driver's window.

"What are you doing here?" I asked him suspiciously.

His body heat was like a magnet, pulling me closer to the car, giving promise of warmth.

"Well," he began hesitantly, "You want the truth I suppose?"

"Of course." I hardly resisted adding a 'duh' to the end of my sentence.

"Well," he continued, apparently embarrassed, "I was... waiting for you."

I blinked in surprise.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"I was going to swing over to your house and offer you a ride to school since it's so cold out and you have to walk."

"Oh." I said, pleasantly surprised but still curious, "But what are you doing here so early then?"

"I could ask you the same question," he said playfully, his grin more pronounced, "You usually don't leave your house for another twenty-seven minutes."

I was taken aback, and my face must have shown it.

"How did you know that?" I tried to ask nonchalantly.

"Well - since we are being truthful here - I - well, I - I've been sort of... watching you."

"Watching me?" I asked, my pulse quickening.

"Not in a creepy way," he added hastily, "I wasn't watching you undress or anything. Just - well, ever since I lied to you in Dairy Freeze, and you - well - you were chillingly convincing. I completely believed that you hated me. And it sort of - haunted me. I had to see if you were only acting. I - er - followed you home and watched for some sign that it had been an act. I didn't see one. I continued to watch for some sign that our being apart was affecting you in any way, if it was taking even a small fraction of the toll on you as it was me. It was - killing - me. Torturing me. Literally. I had to be with you in some way - and I got curious - so I - well - I continued to watch you."

"That's not in a creepy way?" I asked casually, carefully not letting my face betray any emotion.

"I'm sorry," he said sincerely, "It's just - I wasn't exaggerating. Not being with you, not talking to you - ignoring you - it was agonizing. I don't think you can understand how - panicked I felt. I had to be near you in some way or I'd have lost my mind. And also - ever since the bleacher incident - I've been instinctively overprotective of you. I had to make sure you were safe at all times."

"I see," I said. It was crazy. I ought to have been terrified - or at least appalled that I had my very own stalker. So why wasn't I? Why had Matthew's words only succeeded in giving me a warm, affectionate, and flattered feeling inside?

We stood there in awkward silence for a moment.

"Well," he said awkwardly, "You look cold."

I was cold. The heat emanating from his window only heated so much of me. The rest was exposed to the bitter cold.

"Do you want a ride?" he asked, unsure.

After his admittance, the proper thing to do would have been to say no, to continue walking, and to ignore him. Maybe even reporting him would have been in order.

"Sure," I said easily.

He grinned. A second later he was standing next to me. The car door remained motionless. It appeared not to have moved an inch, much less opened enough for someone to get through. Matthew himself had seemed to dematerialize and rematerialized in his current position next to me.

I stepped back in shock, gaping.

His grin became more pronounced.

He was wearing nothing but a T-Shirt, sneakers, and jeans; he seemed very out of place with the snow in the background, but he showed no sign of discomfort.

"I have neighbors, you know!" I retorted, getting over my shock.

"Yes," he said, his grin twitching mischievously, "But they didn't see anything."

"How do you know?" I asked suspiciously.

"Well..." he began, rolling his eyes and motioning for me follow him as he made his way at a normal pace towards the passenger door.

"The people in that house," he inclined his head in the direction of the nearest one, "Are gone. And in that one," he inclined his head again towards the one across the road, "they are both sleeping. The one there," his head indicated the other one that was a close distance on this side of the street, "two people are sleeping and a younger one is frantically searching for something. The rest of the houses are far enough away that unless its occupants were standing, staring out the window, they wouldn't have seen anything. And they didn't."

"How do you know all that?" I asked, transfixed.

He opened the passenger door of his car for me. I got in and he shut it behind me. Another second passed, and he was sitting in his own seat.

"I could hear it," he answered, already buckled into his seat.

I buckled myself in. With the heat cranked, the car was extremely warm, and the seats unbelievably plush and comfortable.

"Hear it?" I asked cautiously.

"Yes. I could hear the tenor, speed, and pitch of the people's breathing, hear the lack of human sounds, and hear the ruffling as well as low grumbling in the houses. I also didn't hear any reaction from surrounding houses at all."

My eyes widened in shock, "You could hear all that?" I gasped, incredulous. He'd told me that his hearing was amazing - but that was unbelievable!

"Yes," he answered matter-of-factly.

"Oh."

He put the car in gear and took off onto the road. I watched the neighborhood speed by now, and unwound and pulled off my scarf from around my neck.

"This is a - er - nice car you have here," I said awkwardly after a few beats of silence. It was a nice car, the nicest one I'd ever seen. The plush black cushions of the seats A screen alternatively portraying a car phone, a radio system, and a GPS covered the front above buttons, a CD slot, and, lower, pop holders.

"Yeah," he said, his mouth turning up into a casual half-smile, "It was a birthday present from my grandparents."

"A birthday present?" I asked, incredulous, "My grandparents sent me Barbie card with ten dollars in it for my last birthday."

He grinned.

"You're grandparents must be filthy rich," I stated bluntly.

"Well... pretty much, yeah," he said, his grin twitching again.

"They really gave you a car?" I asked again, just as incredulous.

"I love cars. Well, my dad's a mechanic, I was raised with them."

"Your dad is a mechanic?"

"Yeah, I thought you knew that."

"How would I have known that?"

"Small town."

"Yeah... I guess I should have known it. But you guys are knew here."

"Yep."

"So... does Lorraine like cars too?" I couldn't really see the perfectly-groomed Lorraine bent inside the open hood of a car.

"You kidding? She loves em even more than I do. She drives a car she made herself."

"Really? What, your grandparents don't offer her a car?"

"She didn't want one. She wanted to build her own."

"Wow. I can't really see that."

"No? Why not?"

"I don't know. Lorraine just seems so... I don't know. Not the car-fixing type."

He laughed, "Yes, I'm sure loads of things about Lorraine would surprise you."

We were almost to school now.

"So," I started, changing the subject, "Is it safe to say that we're - you know - dating now?"

'Dating'. Ugh. It seemed like such a meager term to use. Matthew already meant so much more to me than any guy I'd dated before. 'Dating' just meant to me to be 'getting together and seeing how it worked out'. What Matthew and I were doing seemed so much more - permanent, and life-changing.

"Dating. Hmm." he said, pondering it. Was it possible that he felt the same way about our relationship? "Well... do you want to be dating?"

Of course I did.

"Well... yeah, I guess," I said casually.

"Okay then," he said, smiling, "I suppose, yes, you could say that we were dating now."

"Good," I murmured softly before turning away. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw his mouth turn upwards, back into his easy grin.

I smiled to myself.

Who'd have thought, a month ago, that we'd be here?

Matthew and I were dating.

Author's Note: If you review my chapters, I am way more motivated to update sooner! And, though I really appreciate and am encouraged by your praise, I also love criticism! Remember that it is very difficult to improve if you don't tell me what I am doing wrong, too! Please review! Also, thanks so much for all the reviews I have already received! ~Jade