Sydney

I'm fire. I burn through life. The hot element manifests in the red of my hair, the gold of my freckles, my preference for red Converse shoes and yellow sweaters.

It also manifests in my tendency to screw up every good thing, to burn everything down in my path, like Shiva, the destroyer. I hide it as best I can. It's my one big secret.

But I'm not really fooling anyone. Not even my two neighbors that I've been trying to befriend since moving into this apartment. I have to try harder. Make a better show of being normal. Just your average teenage girl, unassuming student and law—abiding citizen, with a penchant for angsty anime and club dancing.

And for hunks—next—door.

But that's off—topic.

Get better at pretending. That's what I need to be thinking about. I mean, it's no wonder I'm sitting all alone on the stairs on this warm summer evening, hugging my knees, sucking on a lollypop and watching as a stranger knocks on Nate's door.

It's early evening, and it's dim in the stairwell where I'm sitting, but the single bulb hanging over the landing gilds the hair of the young man standing there, head bowed, a duffel bag thrown over one big shoulder.

I lean forward, folding my arms over my knees, sucking thoughtfully on my sugary treat, trying to discern his face, but the light over Nate's door is too dim for that.

Nate is my neighbor. Lives with his parents, he's roughly my age, and goes to my school. I hold my breath, waiting for him to open the door.

Nate is hot.

And a floor below him lives my other crush—I mean, neighbor. His name is West, and he's good friends with Nate.

Two attractive, dark—haired boys. These are the two guys I'm trying to befriend. And don't get me wrong, they seem to like me. They hang out with me sometimes, have my back at school.

Is it real, though? Are we really friends?

They don't seem to burn when they touch me, so that's good, right? I haven't screwed that up yet, this budding friendship—but how long before I do?

Nate's door opens, spilling bright yellow light on the landing, jerking me out of my dark thoughts. I sit up straighter for a better view as he steps out, the sight of his tall figure twisting something in my chest. It feels like sadness. Or joy.

I don't know why. It makes no sense. Friendship shouldn't feel like that, should it?

Nate's dark brown hair gleams in the yellow light as he approaches the blond guy. He has a few inches on him, and I stare at the way his brows create shadows over his eyes. He says something to the stranger, then pats his arm.

The blond lifts his head, and the light glints on metal. Piercings, I think, and his profile is indistinct from this angle but seems somehow beautiful. Symmetrical. Strong. A square jaw and intense brows.

Who is he?

And why does Nate gesture for him to come inside the apartment and close the door behind them both?

He never said anything about a visitor coming to stay over. Was this an unexpected turn of events I happened to witness?

He didn't look surprised, though. Nate, I mean. He came out to talk to this guy as if he'd been waiting for him. Why didn't he tell me he had a guest staying over?

Then again, like I said, I don't even know if we're real friends. It's not like I tell him everything, so why should he?

Trust issues. I have them in spades. It's no big secret. I trust no one, not anymore, not even Nate and West.

And maybe I'm not the only one. What a surprise.

***

"What's up?" West braces a strong hand on the locker next to mine as he checks his phone. He's not even looking at me, but I know he's waiting for my answer.

I study his handsome face, olive skin stretched over strong cheekbones, long dark lashes over light blue eyes, a light scruff on his square jaw, and shoulders wide enough to rival Nate's. They make girls go crazy. The shoulders, the linebacker body, the soft mouth and perpetual frown.

West is… intense. There's no better word to describe the way he focuses on each task, from homework, to cooking—yeah, he cooks—to talking about the future.

Or looking at me.

He looks at me like he memorizes my face every single time, so I'm kinda glad he isn't looking now, letting me get my fill.

When he finally glances up, I quickly turn away. "Syd?"

"Oh, nothing much." I take out my books of the next classes and stuff them into my backpack. "You know. The usual."

He runs his tongue over his lips and glances again down at his phone. "Cleaning the apartment?"

"What of it?" I shrug. I clean up in case Mom comes home and finds it like that. "Not a crime, is it?"

"Not to me. But you could come over, hang out with me."

I close my locker, shooting him a smile. "Yeah?" He rarely offers, rarely seems interested in meeting with me outside of school.

"Yeah. Your folks never seem to be home anyway."

It's my turn to tense. And he doesn't even notice. He's engrossed in whatever he's seeing on his phone.

I chew on my lip. "West?"

"Hm."

"Someone important?"

"What?"

I nod at his phone. "Is that someone important? Should I leave you to it?"

My heart is pounding at the thought it could be a girl. Would he tell me about it? We're just friends, sort of, and the guy turns heads wherever he goes. I've braced for this moment since I met him.

But he just puts the phone away into his back pocket and gives me a crooked grin. "Nah. Come on, we'll be late for class."

He turns, expecting me to follow him, and I have to run to keep up with his long strides. Such are the problems of short girls who hang out with tall guys.

"Hey, do you know who's staying at Nate's?" I ask as we enter the classroom.

"What?" He blinks at me, dark brows drawn together. I swear, this guy will have a permanently creased forehead by the time he turns twenty. "Staying at Nate's?"

"Yeah."

"And how would you know someone is staying there?"

Um. Because I saw the guy go in and not come out again? Not that I stayed up all night checking. But I don't sleep all that much, and I stayed on the stairs for a long time after, playing games on my phone, so… Let's just say that I'm pretty sure he didn't leave during the night.

I shrug in reply.