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“Don't tempt me Grace. I am not a sweet, gentle man. I'm fairly certain, if you knew the things I wanted to do to you that you would run screaming in the opposite direction.” I can feel his breath on my lips as he speaks and my heart kicks into overdrive. Millions of butterflies erupt in my stomach and I am finding it difficult to keep my breathing steady.

“Try me.” My words come out breathy and suddenly everything feels too hot.

He laughs lightly but then his eyes turn serious. “No.” The one word sends my heart crashing to my feet. He steps back and I want to reach out and pull him close to me again. Feeling him so close to me, feeling his breath on my face, his scent invading my nostrils, it's did something to me that I can't explain. Something that I know I shouldn't want to feel but that I do all the same, more than anything I have ever wanted before.

He gives me a sympathetic smile and then shakes his head before turning to leave. “Are you kidding me?” The words are off my tongue before I can take them back. He spins back around, clearly as shocked as I am by my outburst.

“I don't know who you think you're dealing with but I am not a child and I certainly am not one of your little sluts that you can play your mind games with. So you know what, just keep ignoring me Zayne. I think I like you better when you don't talk anyways.” I spin back around to face the water and while my hands are trembling, I can't hide the smile that stretches across my face. I know nothing about him but if I had to guess, I would say he is every bit the player that Alec is, possibly even worse. The thought sends a chill through me and I shake it off. Not wanting to let him affect me anymore than he already has.

I listen to his footsteps grow lighter in the distance until eventually they disappear all together. I hate him for making me weak, for making me want something I shouldn't want. But most importantly, I hate him for saying he wants me, only to chicken out and walk away. Clearly he doesn't want me that badly. In fact, I don't think he has a single interest in me. I think he was just fucking with me because he likes my reaction to him. Well no more. If he's going to treat me like I am the bane of his existence then the least I can do is return the favor.

––––––––

W
hen I finally return to the house, Zayne is no where to be found. Neither is anyone else for that matter. Figuring they all must have went out on the boat with mom and Rob, I decide to try to get a little sleep.

After an hour of tossing and turning, I give up on my much needed nap. Feeling restless, I wonder through the house, reminiscing on all the memories that being here brings to the surface. Me and my brothers as kids. My mom and dad, how happy they always were. I can still hear my dad's deep baritone voice ringing through the room. The way he would say my name. The way he would always yell at Ian for taunting me or playing jokes on me.

As I enter the first floor study, I catch sight of my dad's guitar propped up on a stand in the far corner of the room.  I immediately walk over and retrieve it, running my fingers along the worn wood. Plopping down on the brown leather sofa that sits along the right hand wall, I prop the guitar in my lap and strum a couple of chords.

My dad kept this guitar here for when we visited. He bought it second hand at a little shop in town. He didn't like to travel with his
Martin
guitar as it was custom and rather expensive. He was always afraid something would happen to it. I guess that's why I couldn't bare to take it to college with me and as such, have not played in quite some time.

I remember how he would always take this one down to the fire with him at night and we would all sit around and listen to him play and sing. He was such a talented man and the memories now flooding through me brings my welling tears to the surface. I fight them back and try to remember everything he taught me.

I run my fingers across the strings, tuning a couple before repeating the process. I first showed interest in the guitar when I was only six or seven. I was horrible at it but my dad showed absolute patience with me. He took the time to teach me how to play properly and while I still hadn't completely mastered it when he died, I continued to play. Eventually I was even good enough to read music and to write some of my own material.

Slowly I strum again, finding the intro to the first song I learned to convert from piano to guitar. “Colorblind” by The Counting Crows. I softly hum out the melody as I feel out the chords. I'm rusty but it comes back to me pretty quickly and before long, I am playing smoothly and singing along. The words flow through me and like with most other songs that I've learned to play, I connect to the meaning behind it. My voice wavers a little with the emotion running through me but I push through it, loving the release that it gives me.

I strum the final chords to the song and then lay my hand across the now still strings. It feels so good to play again but there are a lot of memories that come along with it. Playing my dad's
Martin
was what helped me through his death. I felt like a part of him lived through me whenever I would lock myself in my room and play for hours on end. And then after Kyle, well let's just say music is a very large reason why I am still here.

For a year after he died I was nothing more than a zombie. I would go through the motions of my everyday life but inside I was hollow. Eventually I tried to end the pain myself. At one point going as far as taking an entire bottle of painkillers my mom had been prescribed for her chronic headaches.

My mom found me in time and after three days of mandatory psychiatric evaluation, I was released to my mothers care. She kept me on a tight leash after that and had me in and out of therapists offices constantly for over a year until I finally got so sick of going, I convinced my mom I didn't need therapy anymore. Once she agreed, I quickly learned to put on a brave face. To the world, I was no longer the heartbroken girl barely hanging on. No, to them I was the same girl I was before the accident. Only I wasn't. That Grace died the same day Kyle did.

Pretending became part of my armor. My way of keeping people at arms length. Even Emma, who has been my best friend since second grade, accepted my new found happiness without batting an eye. I think everyone wanted me to be better so badly that when I said I was, they just embraced it rather than questioned it.

No one talks about what happened anymore. Sometimes I have to look at pictures of Kyle just to remember that he really was real and not some figment of my imagination. My life went on normally after that and only Alec has ever questioned whether or not I was truly okay. While he would never say it, I think part of him senses the pain that I keep burrowed just below the surface. I think a part of him is just waiting for me to break.

“I didn't know you played.” Zayne's deep voice cuts into my thoughts and I jump slightly, catching sight of him leaning against the doorway of the study. Instantly embarrassment seeps through me. For whatever reason, I am completely mortified that he was standing there listening. I try to brush the feeling away and play it cool.

“I didn't know anyone was here.” I say casually, standing and returning my dad's guitar to it's stand.

“Alec's not back yet. Ian's with your mom.” He says on a shrug. “You have an incredible voice. Where did you learn to play?”

“My dad.” I say on a shrug, turning to face him. My breath hitches at the intensity of his stare but in true Grace fashion, I don't let him see how he's affecting me.

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt.” He says.

“You didn't.” I say, avoiding his gaze. “I was finishing up here anyways.” I say, not looking at him as I try to squeeze past him in the doorway.

He reaches out and grabs my forearm before I can make a full escape. The contact sends a shiver through my entire body. “Grace.” He says softly.

“Don't.” I say, finally meeting his eyes again.

“I just want to say I'm sorry.” He says, his blue eyes burning deeply into mine. “You know, for earlier. That was a real dick move and I shouldn't have said those things to you.” He says sincerely.

My heart breaks a little at his words. So did he not mean it then? Was he really just screwing with me? The thought hurts a hell of a lot more than it should. I pull my arm from his grip and continue out of the room without responding. Honestly, I'm not really sure what to say. He follows me into the kitchen and waits until I have a bottle of water in my hand before he continues.

“Look, you're my best friend's little sister. The last thing I want is some kind of bad blood between us. We got off on the wrong foot and for that I'm sorry. Can we start over?” He asks, leaning against the island, his eyes never leaving mine.

“I don't think there's a point is there? You said it yourself, I'm your best friend's little sister. That doesn't mean
we
have to be friends. But if you're that worried about it, no hard feelings.” I say on a shrug, swiftly turning and walking away.

My hands are shaking by the time I reach my bedroom. While I didn't mean a single word that I said to him, I need him to believe that I did. I can pretend that he doesn't bother me. I can pretend like he doesn't even exist. Pretending, after all, is my specialty.

****

E
mma finally returns from her trip with Alec a short while later and while she swears they just went shopping, I find it hard to believe that it took them four hours to pick up a few groceries. I decide not to push the issue though. I have to believe that Emma would confide in me if something was going on with them. She has a hard time not telling me what she had for breakfast, let alone if she hooked up with a guy.

After a late dinner, I run upstairs to change into my jeans and a hooded sweatshirt before heading down towards the dock with Em. By the time we get there, Rob already has the fire at least four feet high and is in serious danger of catching some of the nearby trees on fire.

I shake my head at him and he gives me a wide smile. “I think I got a little carried away with the fire wood.” He laughs, taking in my reaction.

“You think?” I laugh, plopping down on one of the fold out chairs that my mom brought down, Emma taking the one next to me.

Within minutes the four of us are roasting marshmallows and Emma is telling my mom all about her first audition on Broadway. Again, she incorporates her theatrics into everything she does and she tells it so elaborately, my mom and Rob are both hanging onto her every word.

Ian soon joins the group and the conversation continues to spiral from there. At some point Emma decides to tutor Ian on the basics of acting and the two of them end up running through some lines in
Wicked
, the musical Em is set to audition for in two weeks. Ian, of course, has never seen or even heard of the musical which makes it that much funnier. Instead of saying the lines that Emma directs him to say, he spins them off in a very Ian-like way and within minutes has all of us rolling on the ground laughing.

“What the hell Ian?” Alec laughs, appearing out of the darkness.

“She roped me into it.” He laughs, pointing at Emma, who plays innocent.

I don't see Zayne at first but then my relief quickly turns to something else entirely when I catch sight of him. He's dressed casually in jeans and a black hoodie, his 'just fucked' hair covered with a backwards black baseball cap. I didn't know it was possible for him to look any sexier but yet again, he proves me wrong.

A shiver runs through me and I know with complete certainty that it has very little to do with the temperature. While the weather during the day is warm, the nights still have a bit of chill in the air, especially when the breeze comes in off the water.

Alec and Zayne join into the conversation now flowing around the fire. I stay quiet for the most part and simply observe. People watching is my favorite past time. I love watching the way people interact with one another. Their facial expressions. Their body language. The whole thing is very interesting to me. My eyes flicker to Zayne more than once and I can't help but notice how casual he seems, like he doesn't have a care in the world.

I vaguely register that someone is talking to me and I look up to see everyone staring at me. “What?” I ask, clearly confused. Emma and Ian start laughing and then Alec's voice pulls my attention to him.

“I was just asking if you had any prospective jobs for when you get to New York.” He says, not the least bit agitated that I didn't hear him the first time.

“Oh. Well, um. I'm not really sure.” I say on a shrug, not wanting to tell them that I already have a clear cut vision of what I am going to do when I get there.

“That may be something you want to figure out baby girl. New York will chew up and spit out a sweet girl like you. It's best to not leave yourself without a well-thought out plan.” He says, once again assuming the fatherly role.

“I have a plan.” I say weakly, suddenly feeling overly self conscious with all eyes on me. It's not everyone's eyes that bother me but more like one set of piercing blue eyes that I can feel burning holes into the side of my face.

“Well then what is it?” He asks, cocking his head to one side and giving me a smile. I have yet to tell anyone that during the four years I was away at college, I managed to finish my first novel and plan to pitch it to some agencies around the city. It's not like it's a huge deal but given the content of the book, I'm not ready to share that information just yet. Writing about Kyle is one thing. Having that conversation in present company is quite another.

“You'll find out.” I simply say, returning his smile. He lets out a light laugh and then turns his attention to Emma who has her plan mapped out from start to finish and doesn't mind retelling the story to Alec and Zayne that she told to the others earlier.

After another hour of discussing nothing of any real importance, my mom and Rob decide to turn in for the night. The moment they disappear at the top of the stairs, Ian let's out a loud sigh. “Thank god. I thought they'd never leave.” He says, smiling wickedly.