"Ollie…" Bridge whines. "Turn on the music, I want to be loud for a little while longer."

He sighs. The sound makes me shiver. But then the music takes my attention away. Bridge leans forward, fumbling with the buttons, twisting the knob to an almost deafening level. She jumps in her seat, bopping with the beat, singing. But I keep staring at the darkness, watching shadowy shapes creep by. Pop music wraps around us, cocooning the car in notes and tones and crescendos vastly different from the silence beyond these doors.

And then it's gone.

Disappeared.

I blink my blurry eyes, realizing we've reached Bridget's house.

Ollie deftly hops out, circling to his sister's door. Ignoring him, Bridge slides out, wobbly on her high heels, teetering before Ollie grabs her around the waist, holding her upright.

"You coming, Skye?" he teases, glancing over his shoulder to where I'm still waiting in the car. He holds out his free arm, offering it to me. "Come on."

My breath hitches as I slip against his chest and the warmth of Ollie's body curls into my side. I'm hyperaware of the position his palm secures against my stomach, of the pressure he uses to help me walk, of the attention he gives. I trip over my own feet. He clutches me tighter, making my heart flutter even faster, a hummingbird alive in my chest. I can't focus on anything except for the fact that he's touching me, can't think beyond the sensation of his fingers grazing the bare skin just above my jeans.

"You know, I thought better of you, Skye."

I look up, struck dumb by the twinkle in his moonlit eyes. "Wh—what?"

"I knew Bridge would get bombed as soon as I saw you guys sneak out for the party. But you? I thought you were supposed to be her good influence."

I smile, biting my lip. It's the only response I can muster because my eyes sink down to his lips, stuck.

"I'm not that drunk!" Bridge cries, tearing out of Ollie's hands to race up the walk.

"Shh!" he hisses. "Do you want to wake up Mom and Dad?"

Bridge responds by throwing out her arms, twirling around, faster and faster.

"Stay," Ollie orders, pointing at me before turning. I obey, standing still, swaying just a little with the wind, or maybe, well, with the booze. A few steps later and he's there, catching his sister as she loses her balance, crashing to the ground. Bridge yelps and Ollie rushes to cover her mouth, holding the shout in, sighing heavily.

"How do you get away with this when I'm not around to shut you up?" he murmurs, shaking his head.

Me.

I want to tell him, but I can't find my voice. I'm always the sober one, the designated driver, the responsible one. But not tonight. Because tonight, I'm on a mission.

"Come on, Skye," he whispers, gesturing for me to walk over.

I take each step slower than the last, one foot in front of the other, holding my arms out for balance. When I close the gap, Ollie puts his arm around me again, carrying both Bridge and me to the door, easing us inside and plopping us down on the steps in the front hallway.

"Wait here." And then he disappears, only to return a few minutes later with two full glasses of water and two pieces of bread. "Drink and eat this now."

Bridge and I listen. Something about the quietness of the house calms her rebellious mood. I gulp down the water, throat dry from all the words I want to say. When we're done, he leans down, holding us by our waists again, taking each step one at a time as we climb achingly slow to the second floor of the house. A few minutes later, and Ollie releases us at the edge of Bridget's bedroom.

"If you think you're going to be sick, knock on my door, okay?"

I nod, biting my lip.

He walks away, disappearing into the dark hall.

"Ollie!" I whisper.

He stops, turns. "Yeah?"

Say it!

Say it!

But Bridge is by my side, hanging on my arm, dropping her head against my shoulder, already sleepy.

Say it!

I open my mouth, chest clamped by an invisible hand. I'm trembling.

"I—"

All the courage leaves my body in a whoosh, leaving my limbs heavy with failure. I'm not strong enough. Not brave enough. I'm…nothing. The invisible girl with invisible dreams and not enough nerve to reach out and grab them.

"Thanks," I mumble.

Ollie grins. "Any time. Now please help put my sister to sleep before she passes out on the carpet."

I nod.

He's gone.

Bridge is practically snoring into my ear, so I hold her, stumbling for the bed, tripping so we both collapse onto the mattress in a heap. Only half awake, Bridge crawls to her side of the bed, rolling under the covers. But I stay where I am, staring at the stars twinkling on the ceiling, stickers I've wished upon more times than I can count. The neon green mocks me, an illusion of everything I could have if I only tried.

"Skye," Bridge whispers beside me. "We're going to college tomorrow."

"I know," I tell her, finally turning away from the ceiling, joining her under the covers.

"College," she sighs, blissful.

College. But my heart sinks with the idea. College. Where I'll still be pining after Ollie. College. Where I'll be haunted by the what ifs of tonight. College. Where every boy will continue to fail to measure up to the crush I've glorified in my head.

I've run through what will happen if I tell him a thousand times. Shock and desperation, the gentle let down, the way he'll never look at me the same. But at least then I'll know there's no chance. I'll know he'll never see me that way. I'll know it's hopeless. I'll get over it. I'll be done. I want so much to be done. I want so much for the constant ache to disappear. For the pining to go away.

My eyes shoot open.

I have to do this.

I have to.

Bridge snores beside me, and I almost hear the word go in the rumble—an urging for me to leave, to go, to find answers.

I listen.

Quietly, I drop my feet to the floor, ease off the bed, and walk to the door. The knob clicks when I turn it, making my pulse jump, but I press forward, tiptoeing across the carpet. And then I stop, my hand an inch away from his door, hovering.

I bite my lower lip.

Close my eyes.

Breathe. Inhale—one, two, three. Hold. Exhale—one, two, three.

My chest burns with nerves, with fear. My hands tremble. But if there's one thing worse than fear, it's regret. And I know if I don't find the courage to walk through this door, I'll never stop thinking about what could have happened if I did. My fingers twitch. Everything in my body pauses, stuck in this moment, in this decision.

And then in a rush it happens.

I open the door, step inside, and close it behind me.

"Hello?" a sleepy voice asks, followed by the movement of rustling sheets. The light clicks on, bright against the dark. And I feel caught. Trapped. "Skye? Are you okay? Is Bridget?"

"Yeah," I murmur, suddenly unsure, antsy as my hands wring in and out, pulling my skin tight.

He gives me a confused look, made all the more adorable by the disarray of his hair. And then the corner of his mouth lifts. "Did you walk in here by accident coming back from the bathroom or something? Are you that drunk?"

I just shake my head.

My throat is caught with indecision, clogged by trepidation.

Ollie sighs and rolls off his bed, somehow graceful as he lands on his feet in one swift move. Then he's walking toward me. Each step echoes against my heart, one heavy thud after another. "Come on, I'll take you back over to Bridget's room."