A golden boy, both visually and literally – 4.0, scholarship offers, a solid household, and a successful family business to take over when he’s done.

Much like the other asshole she thinks she wants.

On paper, I can agree Trent or fuckhead Alex are perfect.

I pull my clothes on and head back to Demi’s house.

When I walk in, she’s waiting for me, an easiness in her eyes that’s new to me.

What her mom fails to realize is being perfect and being perfect for Demi are two very different things.

Would she be happy with a carbon copy of herself?

I’m thinkin’ not.

I can’t stop staring at his mouth.

“You literally haven’t stopped staring at his mouth,” Krista whispers the second the boys walk off.

I laugh, pulling my feet onto the booth seat, and wrapping my hands around my knees.

Way to read my thoughts.

“Be honest. You two haven’t fucked yet, have you?” She sets her phone on the table.

I cut a quick glance at Trent and Nico as they order our pizza and drinks. “Why do you say that?”

“Because you’re both screaming blue balls.”

My mouth drops open and she laughs.

“I’m kidding, but it’s cute. You guys are like ready to pounce, but both holding back.”

Not holding back enough.

I can’t believe I almost kissed him. I straight up climbed him, made the first move and everything, with no audience, and he didn’t fight me on it!

I’d almost say he wanted it.

Wanted me, for a second anyway.

It was more than that, though.

I know he heard me and my mom, just like I heard him and his dad. That’s the problem with connecting yards, your drama is shared with everyone around you, but Nico didn’t step through that gate to judge me.

He came over knowing I needed a break from my own mind, something I’m beginning to realize he’s all too familiar with thanks to the heavy he deals with in his own home.

That move alone speaks volumes for the boy I used to know and the man he’s becoming.

My eyes seek him out, and as if sensing it, Nico glances over his shoulder, his stare locking onto mine.

I was unfair to judge you.

A slow frown begins to form on his face, but Trent grabs his attention and it’s washed away. A few seconds later the two start back for our table.

“I say you take him home and find a way to keep him there.” Krista pulls me from my thoughts with her whisper, falling against the booth as the boy’s return.

I shake my head, fighting a smile as Nico drops beside me, and faces forward.

“Sorry I couldn’t find my card,” I say to Trent, not missing how Nico’s head snaps my way. We both know that’s a lie, but he doesn’t call me out. “Give me the receipt and I’ll give you my portion at school or something.”

Trent scoffs and Krista rolls her eyes.

“Oh, please.” She sips on her straw. “We invited you guys. Like we didn’t plan to pay.”

“I don’t care, I don’t want your boyfriend paying for my meals.”

“Yeah, well, Nico didn’t let me cover it anyway, so if you owe someone, it’s your boyfriend,” Trent says, dropping his arm around the back of the booth so Krista can scoot into him.

“Oooh,” Krista teases. “I can give you some ideas for how to work off that debt.”

With a light laugh, I look to Nico and slip my tongue between my teeth.

His lips press together in a one-sided grin as his hand lands on my thigh for a playful squeeze.

We rock this role play thing.

The rest of the dinner is spent talking about all the fun and embarrassing things that happened over the weekend.

An hour or two passes and then we’re driving home.

My eyes keep sliding Nico’s way on the drive and finally he turns his head my way raising a brow like an ass.

I laugh, glancing away right as we pull in front of my house.

Krista hops out to give me a quick hug, whispering in my ear, “Details tomorrow. All of them.”

“Shut up and go,” I whisper back, making her giggle.

“Nic, take care of my girl, would you?”

“I’ll take care of my girl, don’t worry.” He grabs my hand leading me toward my own house. “’Night, Krista.”

I unlock the door as he waves bye, and then it’s just me and Nico.

I lead him into the kitchen, pulling out two sodas and holding one up in offering.

He nods, so I move toward the cabinets to take out some glasses.

“Where’s your ma?” he asks.

“Gone.” I pop back to the fridge, filling the cups with ice. “Where’s yours?”

“Sleeping.”

“Your dad?” My eyes slide his way.

He shakes his head, not willing to speak on it, not that I expected him to, but it was worth a shot.

I open the can, applying a little too much pressure and the top pops up, the tip jamming into my thumb and leaving a small cut.

“Shit,” I hiss, pulling my thumb in and shaking my hand.

“What happened?” Nico walks closer.

I turn on the sink, running it underneath the cold water. “The cap got me, but it looks like a clean little cut.”

“Let me see it.”

“I’m fine.”

“Now, Demi.” He doesn’t wait for me to show him but grips my wrist and drags my hand to his face. “Yeah, it’s not deep, a Band-Aid should do it.”

I fight a smirk. “I told you it was fine, but since you insist on helping, get me one from the cabinet above the microwave?”

He walks over, pulling it open.

“The plastic container to the right, grab that,” I tell him.

He does and starts digging through it, finding the perfect size for my finger. “You got some Neosporin or something?”

I pull my thumb from the water and pat a paper towel against it. “I don’t know. In the drawer maybe? If not, I have another first aid kit in my car.”

Nico pulls the drawer open and starts digging around, but suddenly stops.

I shift on my feet when he stands there, unmoving a long moment before slowly looking over his shoulder at me, his body following after a moment.

My eyes tighten, roaming his face before a flash of orange catches my attention and my stare flies to his hand and the small pill bottle held in it.

I dart forward, attempting to snag it from him, but his hand wraps behind him and he stands to his full height, a blank expression masking his thoughts.

“These yours?” he asks, even though I know he read the name printed across the label.

“I don’t take them.”

“Don’t lie,” he throws back, the small tablets knocking against the container as he shakes the bottle behind his back. “They’re half gone.”

“I didn’t say I never took them, I said I don’t, as in not lately.”

Nico doesn’t look away, and the longer we stand here the more guilt gnaws at me, the need to explain winning over.

“My mom... she doesn’t accept mediocre.” I shrug. “That was how she made sure she never got it.”

“Do you feel like you need them, to focus or any other reason?”