I holed up in my room after dinner, preferring to use my laptop as a TV instead of joining the others at the actual TV. Especially after what almost happened today.

I heard a knock at the door, but I didn't even have time to consider the possibility of it being Twister because Otto barged right in.

"I wanna talk to you," he said, shutting the door behind him.

"Sure, Otto. Come in," I remarked sarcastically.

"What's going on with you and Twister?" He asked bluntly, not looking very happy.

"Nothing," I said quickly.

"It didn't look like nothing earlier."

I clenched my jaw. "It's none of your business."

"He's my best friend; that makes it my business," he said firmly. "He's got a lot going on right now and he doesn't need you breaking his heart again."

I held my tongue.

He doesn't need to know. It's better if he doesn't know.

"He can make his own decisions," I said instead. "And weren't you the one insisting I be nice and make him feel welcome on this trip?"

"Yeah, make him feel welcome—don't try to make out with him in the hot tub," he shot.

"That's not what happened," I said, my jaw tight.

"Just back off, Reg." He said, sounding exhausted from the conversation. "Seriously. Promise me you won't go there."

I hesitated before shrugging and refusing to meet his eyes. "I won't."

The spark of hope was trying hard to take over my sense of reason. Everything was telling me not to think this way—even Otto, but I couldn't help it. The fear of getting hurt again couldn't seem to just take over like I wanted it to. Seeing Twister look at me yesterday—knowing that he wanted to kiss me too—it was just too powerful.

O.O.O.O.O

"Morning, Twist," I said, coming up behind him as he sat at the dining room table.

I startled him so much, he started choking on his orange juice. I sat down next to him, waiting for him to quit coughing.

"You okay?"

He nodded, still coughing. "I'm good."

I wasn't sure what to expect. Last night we hadn't really talked to each other, but we were with everyone at dinner, so we didn't really need to. Now, it was just us. At least at the table. Dad and Tito were in the kitchen cooking breakfast.

"It snowed last night," I said, hating that I was having to resort to the weather for conversation. "We'll have fresh powder on the slopes today."

"Awesome," he said, looking like he was struggling to think of the words to follow. "Sunscreen!" He finally said.

"What?"

"The snow—we should get sunscreen. Sam told me that the sun reflects off the snow and it makes it more likely for you to get burnt."

I smiled weakly. He was trying—that was good. But conversation didn't used to be this strained. It used to be so easy.

"You were talking to Sam?"

I wondered if Sam had said anything about me. Maybe Twister was asking for advice? Did he tell him about our almost kiss? I wasn't sure how close they were these days.

"Not recently. He told me that a few years ago. But I just remembered it."

Or maybe he hadn't.

"Well, I kind of doubt you'll get sunburnt," I said, eyeing his tan arm. I was pretty confident he hadn't started wearing it to go surfing since we broke up. "But I have some if you wanna borrow it."

He stood up and I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion.

"Oh, you mean now?"

"No," he said, quickly sitting back down and turning his head to cover up a blush. "I was just . . . Getting up to check . . ."

"The food," Dad supplied, bringing over a plate of pancakes and bacon. "It's ready."

I'd kind of forgotten he was there, listening in to our painfully awkward conversation.

"Thanks, Raymundo," Twister said, piling pancakes onto his plate.

Once Dad had gone back to the kitchen, Twister looked up at me then back down at his food.

"I can't eat pancakes without thinking about the time we tried to make them," he said, his tone bittersweet.

I felt relief wash over me. He wasn't doing the strained conversation anymore; he was wanting me to jump into an old memory with him.

"Ours didn't turn out so great," I smiled.

"Who knew it was so hard to follow instructions on the back of the box?"

"Considering the fact that neither one of us had any talent in the kitchen back then," I laughed. "But the batter fight was pretty fun."

And he couldn't forget the amazing make-out session that followed our food fight.

"Yeah," he smiled, lost in the memory.

It can be like this again, I silently told him.

"Remember when we—," he started, but was cut off by Otto walking in.

"Hey, Reg," he said a little aggressively.

I realized I'd been leaning in towards Twister's seat as we talked. I straightened up, getting yanked out of the moment. Otto seemed to have a knack for making that happen.

"Morning, bro," I replied, a little overly cheerful and breathy. "Fresh powder for today," I said, because apparently I had no other conversation topics.

"Nice," he nodded with a pleased grin as he loaded pancakes onto his plate.

"Maybe we should join the kids today, Tito," I heard my dad say from the kitchen. "Looks like a perfect day for skiing."

"We been loungin' around here so long, time for Raymundo to live up to his ski legend title," Tito chuckled.

"That sounds great!" I said cheerfully.

The fact that I wouldn't have to spend the day in an awkward friendship triangle with my brother and ex boyfriend who I was rekindling feelings for was an added bonus.

O.O.O.O.O

I opened the door to the cabin, nervous as to what I'd find. I'd been worrying ever since Twister told us he was going to head back early. I'd seen him check his phone right before and I had a feeling this was about his grandmother.

Part of me thought I should give him space—I wasn't his person anymore. But I also knew Twister and I knew if something had happened, he wouldn't want to be alone.

He turned to look at me when I walked in and he didn't look sad, just confused. That was a good sign.

"You're back early."

"So are you," I pointed out.

"Yeah." He stood up from the couch and walked over to me. "After our last run, I saw that I'd missed a call from my mom. And I didn't want to be around everyone when I called her back. But everything's okay. She was actually calling to tell me they're going to let my abuela go home tomorrow."

"Really? That's great!" I said, tempted to hug him. But would it be weird like our last one?

"It is," he said, not meeting my eyes.

"So why don't you look happy?"

"I am," he said, his eyes darting from one corner of the room to the other. "She just, uh . . ." He rubbed a hand on the back of his neck. "She said I could come down and spend Christmas with them if I wanted."

"You're leaving?" I tried to remain neutral, but my voice came out all strained.

"I don't know. She said she understands if I wanna stay. I'd have to get a plane ticket and it's pretty expensive. And the airports are crazy this time of year."

"Do you want to go?" I asked hesitantly.

"It would be great to see my family, but it would only be a few days. I don't know if it's worth it. And I don't want to ruin your Christmas or anything, but I don't know. Yesterday it almost seemed like—," he cut himself off. "If you'd be cool with it, I kind of want to—," he stopped talking when I stepped into him, our faces less than a foot apart.

"Stay," I whispered just before brushing my lips against his.

I pulled away just enough to gage a reaction.

He was smiling that crooked smile that drove me wild. "I was hoping you'd say that," he said before closing the gap between us once more.

I missed this. I missed this so much—the feeling of his hands on my hips, my arms draped across his neck. It all felt so right. But . . .

"Wait." I jerked back. "Should we be doing this?"

"It seemed like it was going pretty good to me," he said sheepishly.

"Twister," I said, switching to a serious voice. "You broke up with me."

"Yeah." He frowned, looking down at his feet.

"And nothing's changed. It's still going to be long distance. At least for the semester. Maybe after. I don't know if I'll be able to get a job in Ocean Shores."

"You were applying to jobs in Ocean Shores?"

"Yeah," I said, feeling a little self-conscious about it. "But it's not a guarantee. I could end up anywhere. You said the distance was too much."

"I could move. I'm mostly doing freelance work now anyway, I could—."

"No, you can't," I cut him off.

"Why not?"

I sighed. "Twister, you can't just follow me around the country because of one kiss. You're not thinking clearly."

"It's not just one kiss though. We've spent our whole lives together. I just wanna be with you."

"But you didn't before," I reminded him again.

"I did! It was just . . ." He trailed off.

"The distance was too hard."

"It wasn't just that. I wasn't . . ." he closed his eyes and rubbed his hand against his face. "I wasn't good enough for you."

"What?"

"You knew exactly what you wanted and you had such a strong drive to get it. And I was still living with my parents, flunking half my classes, and about to drop out of college. I wanted to be the kind of boyfriend you could be proud of."

"I was proud of you," I said, releasing a breath. "Then you just ended it."

"You deserved more," he said quietly without making eye contact.

"I loved you."

"I still love you."

I turned away from him, shaking my head. "Maybe Otto was right."

"Otto? What's he got to do with this?"

"He told me we shouldn't do this. And I didn't listen."

"Why shouldn't we?" he pressed. "Don't we both want this?"

"I don't know, Twister. I thought I did, but I don't know if this is going to work. You broke up with me because you felt insecure. And then you lied to me about it."

"I just wanted to be able to give you what you wanted!" he said defensively.

"I wanted you," I said, tasting the bitterness as I spoke.

"Yeah but you also wanted, like, a house and kids and stuff."

"Eventually, but not right then!" I said exasperated. "You were eighteen!"

"But one day!" He argued. "I wanted to be able to give that to you!"

"By breaking up with me?" I retorted.

"I was trying to do what was best for you."

"You should've let me make that decision for myself," I said flatly. I let out an exhausted breath and turned to get my coat. "I need to think."