Dedicated to _Just_A_Fangirl_ for the banner and for leaving awesome comments, even though she was rereading the book. State I'm In by Brandyn Burnette in the media bar.

IMPORTANT NOTE AT THE END.

Chapter 33

I woke up from school on Monday with the sense that I'd woken from more than just a night of sleep.

It was if I'd woken up from a dream – a happy dream, surprisingly – that had spanned a whole day, spilled into Sunday and, based on how I felt when I opened my eyes, today.

I wasn't sure what to make of it.

More importantly, I wasn't sure what to make of what I felt about it.

It was like I had a ball of emotions bouncing around inside me – a kaleidoscope buzzing inside my body.

It was bright and colorful and managed to make me smile so soon after feeling like it wasn't possible. But it was also perplexing, moving at a speed my brain couldn't comprehend, at a speed my heart couldn't keep up with. I managed to contain it for an entire day but I couldn't stop the question that fueled the madness from bubbling out when all four of my friends were at my house on Tuesday evening.

"How long do you have to be single before you can kind of date again?"

Up until that point, it had been a very quiet study session.

Jenny, Allie and Louis looked up from the carpet where they were surrounded by piles of my notes and school books. Nate's pen was poised on top of his Geometry homework, his other hand in the middle of sending a text to Amanda – I assumed to ask what time she would be joining us.

"What's going on?" my best friend asked cautiously.

"I was just curious," I explained in a small voice. "I mean, really, how much time has to pass before it's okay to kind of go out with someone?"

Nate abandoned caution all together. "How can you kind of go out with someone?"

"I asked a question first, Nathaniel. Wait your turn." I could play the snooty card very well when I had to. I turned to Jenny, the most contemplative person in the room. "If you and Louis broke up, wouldn't a week seem too short to start dating again?"

"I don't really think it's the same thing," she started. "I mean, Louis and I have been dating since freshman year. You and Daniel broke up after, what, a couple of months?"

Nate nodded. "Redhead has a point."

Jenny chuckled. "Thank you, Jockhead."

"And we're not breaking up," Louis added to the quick exchange.

"But if Amanda and I did break up, I don't think I would be asking anyone out after a week," Nate pointed out. "Maybe not even a month." Jenny and Louis simultaneously agreed.

I sighed – they hadn't really give me an answer.

I turned to Allie. Normally she was the most vocal of my friends but she'd been unexpectedly quiet. Her eyes widened and she raised both her hands in sign of surrender. "Theo and I just started going out so I'm hoping I don't have to ask that question anytime soon – or ever." She sighed dreamily.

Nate's focus was still on me. "Why're you even asking that question in the first place?"

I cleared my throat – my first mistake – and spoke up. "I'm just trying to calculate what would be my next move at this point." I cleared my throat again. "Should I go out on a date? Should I ask someone out? Should I say yes when I get asked out?" I cleared my throat one more time. "It's all very confusing." I was able to stop myself from clearing my throat at the very end.

I had the horrible habit of only clearing my throat when I was extra nervous.

All four of them knew this and four pairs of eyes narrowed in my direction.

Allie broke the silence after exactly five seconds. "Has someone asked you out?"

"No."

I barely stopped myself from clearing my throat but was immensely thankful that I had.

I mean, I wasn't lying.

Not completely.

I hadn't been asked out.

Technically.

I suppose I might as well have been.

"I think it's okay, you know, if you say yes," Louis told me. "You're not coming out of a year-long relationship or anything."

Jenny gave a small nod. "And you coop yourself up too much. Going out – literally even just outside to get some sun – would be good for you."

"Daniel though –"

"– is irrelevant." Allie cut me off. "Admittedly, I would still listen to the guy read off an Ikea instruction manual; but he stopped being relevant when he asked for space, Sara."

"I think he stopped being relevant when he didn't tell her about Smithson," Jenny pointed out.

Louis nodded hesitantly. "I get that he wasn't sure he was going to get in but your girlfriend kind of needs to know if you're thinking about transferring schools." The twins agreed with him whole-heartedly and they were back to poring over my notes after that.

Unlike my other friends, Nate was still trying to put two and two together from my cryptic words. He knew something was looming on the horizon, he just couldn't figure out what it was. I didn't blame him – the truth really did seem closer to fiction than fact. Even I sometimes wondered if I'd just imagined it all. But the memory of the raw look in Julian's eyes from a few days earlier reminded me that it was definitely real.

Nate finally stopped staring at me when Amanda arrived. Hopefully, he would let the matter rest for now. I looked at the rest of the room as Nate went to open the door for his girlfriend. "Just forget I asked, okay?"

They shrugged and, when Amanda greeted us all a few seconds later, it was as if I hadn't even asked anything in the first place.

Inside, the kaleidoscope continued to spin and swirl.

* * * * *

I wanted time to think, to sort things through and maybe get some peace of mind. But, as Murphy's Law says, if you want something bad enough, chances are you won't really get it.

"Sara."

I turned around and Julian stood not even a foot away from me and my open locker. I wasn't supposed to see him until later in the afternoon. I wasn't ready for this now. "Uhm." I looked around the hallway, regretting my decision to place my AP Chem notes in my locker this morning. It was lunchtime and most people were at the cafeteria. The other people who were in the hallway though didn't pay us any mind. "Hi."

He answered with a smile.

"Can I help you with something?"

The smile grew wider.

"Julian?"

He leaned in closer until his cheek was inches from my own.

In a corner of my mind, I wondered if nervousness had a scent. "What are you doing?"

"Just checking your locker."

"Uhm, cool." I fidgeted and started to move to the side. "Let me just –"

His arm quickly went up and I was trapped between him and my locker door.

"Or maybe you can let me through?" I weakly suggested.

Julian laughed a low chuckle.

I pretended I didn't feel it reverberate in my bones. I closed my eyes and tried to take in some calming breaths as silently as I could. "I'm going to count to three and if you don't step away," I said in what I hoped was my most menacing voice, "I'm going to push you off."

He had crinkles of laughter around his eyes when he finally stepped back. "In the time it took you to pretend you were a jungle cat and not a calico, you could already have pushed me away five times."

I gaped at him. "You –"

"And you still haven't returned my shirt."

"Shirt?" My anger fumbled, tripped and dissipated. "What are you talking about?"

The one eyebrow and corner of his mouth that seemed oddly connected went up at the same. "Should I dump some orange juice on you to jog your memory?"

A memory from months ago – of a freshman bathing me in orange juice and Julian lending me his shirt – floated back to me. "I imagine you like the idea of dumping orange juice on my head," I sighed. "I'll give you your shirt back on Monday, okay?"

"Of course, you could keep it if you want it." He was rocking back and forth on his heels, practically vibrating with amusement.

I narrowed my eyes. "Why would I even want it?"

"Let's both pretend we don't already know your answer to that question."

His smile was tenacious but my head was spinning.

Throughout our entire conversation, my chest was slowly filling with Technicolor heat. I was surprised my face hadn't blushed in rainbow-colored hues yet.

This was turning into a serious condition.

"You're such a –" I started but Julian was already walking away, taking with him the satisfied smirk I wanted to knock off his face. I finally knew what I wanted to say when he was too far to not yell it out. "You're such a meanie!"

He turned around, flashed a smile so disarming he could have taken out a nuclear bomb and yelled back, "Eighty-eight!"

That was how he left me standing in the middle of a hallway: grasping for a half-appropriate response and with people looking at me like my brain had finally gone haywire.

I'd been distracted for most of AP Chem – thankfully, we didn't have to do an experiment so no beakers had to be sacrificed – and I had to force myself not to listen in French class. The sound of Madame Rochelle speaking in fluent French placed me on the edge of my seat. I probably would have run out of the room if she said the word croissant.

For the first time in my entire school life, I didn't want to be in class.

Jenny and Louis hadn't noticed I was distracted during the lecture. But they definitely noticed when, at the sound of the bell, I instantly grabbed my things and started stuffing them into my bag haphazardly.

"Sara?" Jenny looked genuinely concerned. I always put away my things neatly even if my next class was on the other side of the school. Today, I would have sprinted out of the room if she didn't have such a tight grip on my wrist. "Is everything okay?"

"Okay? Of course it's okay. Absolutely okay." I paused. "Why? Why would you ask that? Why?"

"Because you just said okay and why three times." Louis looked equally worried. "Plus Madame Rochelle's still giving out this weekend's homework and you're not copying any of it down."

"Jenny will tell me what they are later – right, Jen?"

"Sure," she mumbled, staring as I practically bounced in place. "Do you need to go the bathroom or something? Or we could take you to the nurse if you're not feeling okay?"

"I just don't want to be late for my next class." I twisted my wrist out of her grip. "Bye!" I called out, pretending didn't hear Louis mumble that my next class was just a few doors down.

I was one of the first people to arrive in the large classroom the combined Creative Writing and Photography classes used on Fridays. There wasn't a seating arrangement but I usually chose a seat by the door for a quick exit when class ended. Today, I headed for one of the seats at the back of the room that was farthest from the door. I pulled up the hood of the sweatshirt I'd borrowed from Louis earlier and tried to act inconspicuous.

I squeaked loudly in surprise however when, right as I turned to look at the door, Julian walked in.

I quickly tugged the hood lower on my face even though I knew the jig was up.

"You should take off the sweatshirt," Julian started. "Don't worry about getting cold – you've got a Hotspot right here." He was pointing at himself.

I wanted to laugh at his brazenness but the sight of our teachers walking into the room stopped me. Mr. Parker and Ms. Lyle announced they would be checking on our projects' progress – everyone in the class groaned – and both their eyes searched the room and stopped at where Julian and I were seated.

"How are our star pupils?" Ms. Lyle cheerfully greeted us. Julian and I both stared at her but her smile didn't falter. "I'm sure you two have once again done fantastic work."

I snuck a look at Julian from the corner of my eye. Mr. Parker, luckily, understood what I was too nervous to say. He whispered something to Ms. Lyle then turned to look at Julian. "Want to show me what you have so far, Mr. Pitt?"

Julian took out his phone and, after a few clicks and swipes, presented it to him. Mr. Parker looked at the screen with wide eyes – wide eyes that landed on me for a full second before being glued once again to the screen. "It's definitely not what I expected."

"Is that good or bad?" Julian asked with a frown.

I wanted to know the teachers' answer as well but Ms. Lyle was already talking to me, asking if she could read my essay. I looked up at her and sighed. "I ... haven't really written much."

"It's okay if its a rough draft, Sara." Her encouragement made the bile rise up in my throat. "I'll still be more than happy to see what you have."

"I don't have anything." I lowered my voice to a whisper. "I actually haven't written a word."

Ms. Lyle couldn't hide her shock and she briefly looked at Julian.

"It's not him, Ms. Lyle," I assured her. "He's been great about this project – very dedicated. We've been meeting up so he could take a couple of shots each time. That way, they don't look like we took them all in one go. While he took pictures, I would ask questions which he answered. He's been great," I repeated.

She was frowning but, I sensed, for a different reason now. "His dedication to his craft sounds like a good point to start from," she said tentatively.

"It's not good enough." I shook my head. "This project is about positivity and I want to find something better than just saying he is good at what he does because that's not very," I struggled for the word. "Unique." I sighed. "I want to write something about him that no one really knows yet or would even expect."

"I see," Ms. Lyle chuckled. I couldn't see about what was so amusing about my problem. "Sara, your writing has always been organic and rooted in clarity. From the first word, you get the sense that it's gonna be good. But the challenge is, what do you do when the clarity isn't present, when you aren't as clear-headed as you normally are?"

She paused for a heartbeat, long enough for my heart to pump a new round of blood into the rest of me – blood that was as confused as the pinwheel of colors consuming me from the inside out.

"The challenge you're facing now is a challenge every great writer has looked at in the eye. It's not about how good you are at stringing words together, Sara. It's about how good you are at finding those words to begin with."

Her words were beautiful but they weren't exactly helpful.

"Just don't stress too much," Ms. Lyle laughed lightly, squeezing my shoulder in a gesture of comfort. "The right idea will come to you when you least expect it."

"Will it come to me before the deadline?" I asked with more snark than I usually gave a teacher.

She opened her mouth to answer but Mr. Parker suddenly yelled out, "You better have prints to show me, McCloud!"

A wiry kid who had been standing on a chair and whooping loudly fell to floor in surprise. Both teachers ran up to him to see if he was alright – then gave him double detention when they saw he'd begun doing a worm dance as the people in the nearby desks cheered him on.

Julian shook his head. "That kid's a trouble maker."

"You would know, of course," I mumbled.

"I never start things, I get dragged into them," he countered. "What did Lyle think about your project?"

I shrugged. "That I need to work on it more." A lot more.

He quirked an eyebrow. "You're telling me that, after spending all that time at my house, after having lunch with my parents, and a whole day that was actually pleasant, you're still not done?" A shark was smiling at me. "Just come out and say it, Sara: You want to spend even more time with me to figure me out even more."

"How do I know this isn't just you trying to rope me into another photo shoot?" I fired back just as cheekily. I stuck my tongue out at him for good mature. Real mature, I chided myself. "Honestly, I've gotten more pictures taken of me in the past few weeks than probably my entire life." I sighed, shrugging. "I don't know why we had to spend all that time together when we both know you're only going to use a couple of shots."

Julian's eyebrow was arched a high as it could go.

"What?"

He continued to stare at me.

"Do I have something on my face?"

He sighed and ran both hands through his hair. "You are either as blind as a bat or you are the stupidest smart girl ever." His voice rang with frustration.

My feathers were ruffled. "Excuse me?"

"Do I really need to come out to say it?"

"Say what?"

"So, yes then." He looked directly into my eyes and gave me a shaky smile. "I like you, dumb ass."

I blinked three times more than people normally do in ten seconds.

"Do I have to say it again just to make sure it sinks into that thick head of yours?"

I didn't have words to answer him with – I didn't even have thoughts to think.

All the colors in my chest had stopped spinning around – they had exploded and mixed together. It was now blindingly white hot and even more confusing than before.

"I'll let that supercomputer brain of yours process the information for a bit." Julian sighed and plopped down on the desk. "Wake me up when you're done."

I poked him in the shoulder after a couple of minutes.

He looked up, eyebrow raised inquisitively, looking both petulant and guarded – as if he was terrified of what I was going to say but that he was ready to act tough about it.

"So you were just trying to spend time with me?" I asked in a small voice.

"Yes and no," he admitted. "At first, it was because the pictures really weren't good enough. Then it was because I started to like you again."

"Again?" I balked.

Julian laughed. "Evan said it to your face – I liked messing with you as a kid because I liked you."

"It didn't feel like you liked me," I complained. "It felt like you hated me."

"I liked when you would talk to me or look at me." He smiled apologetically. "The only time you did those things was when I tried to piss you off. It didn't help that you had the most hilarious reactions whenever I teased you. Like I said, a calico pretending to be a jungle cat." He laughed briefly then sighed. "Of course, I went too far with the whole playground thing and I never got to talk to you all the way through sixth grade."

"We were in the same classes in middle school," I reminded him.

"Anderson," he answered glumly with a shrug. "He was self-appointed body guard and he made sure every other guy in the class knew you were off limits, that you were his."

I sputtered. "How did you know he liked me?"

"You were with him every day and he was giving you cupcakes on a daily basis." Julian laughed. "The real question is, how did you not know?"

I groaned, dropping my head in my hands.

Julian continued.

"One day, I saw you filling out an application form to Smithson. My parents always wanted me to go there and I figured since that was where most of my friends were going anyways, it was a good idea," he shrugged. "I also really liked that Smithson doesn't have a football team. Everyone knew Anderson wanted to play ball in high school so, for sure, he wouldn't be switching schools." He was smiling wide but I merely rolled my eyes at him. "I thought, maybe, I could get to talk to you again – maybe even piss you off every once in a while like I used to. So I applied and the same day I got my acceptance letter, my parents paid the deposit."

I acknowledged what he said with a nod. "What Evan said ... Did you really not go because of me?"

He thought it over. "I wasn't really planning on transferring at first but I found out they had this great photographer teaching classes there and I got excited about it for me. Then I got bummed when I heard you backed out and it didn't help that my parents wanted me to take the business route." He stuck out his tongue like he was disgusted at the idea. "One thing led to another and," he gestured around us.

"Huh." I couldn't see myself but I was sure my expression was glassy-eyed.

"But if you wanna be romantic about it," he smiled shyly at me, "I was about to change schools and then I didn't just to get the chance to keep pissing you off and maybe get you to like me too."

This was too serious of a conversation to be had in the middle of a noisy classroom.

I couldn't deal with this line of thought just yet so I switched to complaining about it instead. "So this is what everyone's meant this entire time."

Julian looked more confused than I was feeling. "Everyone?"

"Louis. Allie. Jenny. Nate." I grumbled. "I think Ginny even mentioned something one time."

Julian smiled. "Ginny – she was the one with the pancakes, right? I knew I liked her."

"Yeah, well, whoop-dee-doo, everyone figured it out before I did." I stopped. "Did Angelie know?"

Julian's eyes narrowed. "We need to talk about how you keep bringing her up."

I shook my head. Not now.

"Fine," he sighed. "But if everyone around you had it figured out, why didn't you? You're supposed to be smart."

"I am smart," I huffed. "But I don't like to make assumptions when it comes to boy-girl stuff." The words I used were ridiculous but true. "Probably because the one time I thought my instincts were right about these things, I got embarrassed in front of the whole school ."

He rolled his eyes and smiled, as if I was just bickering with him like always. As I stayed silent, his smile disintegrated. "Wait – you're serious, aren't you?"

"I didn't know it until I said it," I admitted. "But it kind of makes sense."

He had a pained look on his face. "Sara, I didn't –"

"Really mean it? Think your little episode in the playground had an effect?" I snapped. I told myself to calm down. I had to stop digging up skeletons for everybody's good – for my own good, most especially. "It's okay. You didn't know. And we can't really undo the past. So," I trailed off, not knowing what else I could say.

Julian was silent for so long, I thought the conversation was over. But every time I moved, he would move too. He would open his mouth and shut it after a couple of seconds. He was still quiet when the bell rang and everybody excitedly ran out of the room to start enjoying the weekend. I stood up with the rest of them but Julian quickly shifted in his seat. It looked like he was finally going to say something – then he didn't and quickly looked down.

Two minutes, I decided.

I'd give him two minutes before I really had to leave. I was riding home with Louis, Jenny and Allie; I didn't want them checking to see what was taking me so long. I wasn't ready to explain this.

I looked at Julian and considered the churn of emotions inside me.

I couldn't even explain it to myself jut yet.

"I'll make it up to you," he declared seven seconds from the deadline I'd mentally set. At this point, we were all alone in the large classroom and he wasn't whispering anymore.

"You don't have to, Julian," I assured him. "People have been telling me I need to learn to let go of grudges for a long time. It's my own baggage and it's about time I deal with it."

"You wouldn't have to carry all that baggage if it wasn't for me," he snapped.

"Don't worry – it's not that heavy."

Julian didn't laugh at my joke. He turned to me face me as I moved to stand. Earnestness was shining in his eyes. "Let's talk about this." He looked truly pained. "Please."

"I –" I swallowed. "I can't, Julian – at least not now, okay? I just ... I have to go before my friends worry," I said gently. "Besides, I need to work on my essay and you need to work on not embarrassing me with whatever you're putting up on Monday."

Julian didn't nod or shake his head. He simply watched me stand up, walk to the door and give him an apologetic smile before heading to the parking lot.

Over the weekend, I tried to pick up my pen or my computer in the hopes that inspiration would strike. But the paper stayed blank and the cursor blinked at me mockingly all the way until Sunday night.

"This essay is due tomorrow," I reminded no one in particular. While the rest of my family was enjoying a movie downstairs, I was in my room struggling with my project that was due in less than twelve hours. I groaned and sunk further in my chair. "How am I supposed to start this stupid essay?"

The whir of my laptop was the only answer I got.

I was supposed to write about Julian's good side.

Even if I didn't consider the butterflies that swirled around me when I thought of our last conversation, I knew he had a good side.

In fact, I had more than enough material to work with. I had pages of facts and observations that I had penned down. But every attempt I'd made to actually write the essay resulted in a garbled collection of words that were hollow and didn't sound right. They weren't saying what I really wanted to tell the world about him.

I wanted to tell the world the best part of who Julian Pitt was – at this point, it was just about figuring out what exactly, to me, that meant.

I hate this.

I hated living under a colossal question mark, amidst uncertainties and not completely understanding anything.

For what may be the first time in my entire life, I was looking at something straight on and I had everything I needed laying in front of me to figure my way out through the mess.

Still, I was utterly, completely, frustratingly ... confused – I couldn't understand anything.

I sat up in my chair suddenly.

That was it.

It was as if I'd actually been hit by a lightning bolt.

All this time, I'd been looking for a starting point to write this essay from and, from the very beginning, I'd had it.

When it comes to Julian Pitt, I was always confused.

The fact that the kaleidoscope of confusion I'd been wrestling with the whole week led to the vibrant clarity I now had shouldn't have made any sense – but it absolutely did.

I opened a new document on my computer and mumbled another question to my room, "When has Julian Pitt ever made any sense?"

The words started to flow and, silently, I had answered my own question: I was about to find out.

I'll be rewriting parts of the book that call Julian a bad boy. Before you throw knives at me, please understand I'm only doing this because Julian doesn't really feel like a bad boy to me. At the very least, he has always been the kid who picked on seven-year-old Sara. At the most, he's a teenager who sometimes loses his way, is into cars and motorcycles and gets into scrapes every now and again. It's just not enough for me to warrant calling him a bad boy.

This isn't a sudden thing, either. For a while now, I've thought of him more as Sara's childhood nemesis more than anything – I've even changed the story's synopsis to show that. He is still the Julian you've all come to (hopefully) love. It's only his label that's going to change and what do labels matter anyway, right?

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