To say I fly out of my bed after waking from a dream that leaves me breathless and more than mildly confused would be an understatement. I practically launch myself out of the covers, stumbling out of bed and nearly landing flat on my face. However, my hand manages to find the side of my desk before gravity sends me to the ground.

My legs are shaking slightly, more from the dream than waking so quickly and without much warning. It's not like having a dream bothers me...it's who starred in the dream that sent a strange yet welcoming fire through me.

Sadly, this is not the first time Gavin has visited in my dreams and it appears that it will not be the last. For whatever reason my body seems to thoroughly enjoy getting worked up at the idea of an aroused and under-dressed Gavin. Why? Haven’t the foggiest…or why sometimes other guys will do. It’s something I choose to ignore than fret over.

"Get it together," I say to myself, taking deep breaths to steady my labored breathing. I’m fine, everything is fine. It’s all good and I don’t need to think about it, so I don’t.

Friday arrives before I realize it and I find myself standing in the bathroom in the clothes Gavin had picked out for me, belt, shoes and all! I attempt to style my hair seeing as it's always a mess that I never bother with. Realizing that the jungle cannot be tamed, I sigh, but tell myself that it's fine. I put more effort than I usually do into my clothes, thanks to Gavin, so that should be good enough. As if he can read minds Gavin shouts up the stairs, ordering me to hurry my ass up or he'll leave without me. Believe me. He would. He has done it before.

I look once more in the mirror, nodding to myself as if that'll somehow boost my confidence. It doesn't. I pat my pockets to make sure I have my phone, which I do, then run down the stairs to see my mom speaking with Gavin.

As expected, Gavin looks great. His hair is styled to the right, the fringe nearly covering the entirety of his right eye. He is wearing a pair of black jeans that show off his toned legs way more than necessary, leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination. His top is no better, a white beater that sticks tightly to his body with a black button up shirt that he leaves open. I glare at the pretty boy who is leaning against the doorway speaking happily with my mother. She's going on and on about how nice he looks and how he's such a good kid. Oh, if only she knew.

"Don't flatter him mom or his head may explode," I say, leaning over to press a kiss to her cheek once I arrive at her side.

She giggles and pats Gavin's shoulder. "There's nothing wrong with stating the truth, is there dear?"

"Of course not," Gavin replies. "Besides it takes a beauty to know one." He winks at my mom who giggles much like a high school girl and I gape in horror.

"Don't flirt with my mother!" I order, pointing an accusing finger to the boy who raises his hands in surrender.

"Sorry, you know I can't contain myself around beautiful women."

"Oh stop!" Mom continues to laugh, slapping Gavin's shoulder. I slam my hand against my face, grumbling about Gavin's playboy ways. My mom kisses the both of us and insists that we be careful and have fun. She thinks that we're meeting up with some girls at the bowling alley then hitting the movies. Ok, so she probably knows the truth because mom was once a teen too, but it's weird to tell your parents you're going to a party.

"We will." I wave goodbye and follow behind Gavin to his car.

The both of us get in, me ogling the interior of the car that I can still never get over. He got it last year saying that his dad had gotten it, but didn't like it as much as he thought he would, so he let Gavin have it and got another car. He gave it to him...like buying a car is so easy. I guess for him it is.

I've tried asking Gavin what his dad does but he has never said more than, “he's some big shot at an architectural company.” Gavin never says much about his family but I guess I've never tried asking more. I've never met any of them either. Like I said, we rarely hang out outside of school. Often the curiosity eats me alive but one way or the other Gavin avoids personal questions and does his utmost best to detour the conversation to a different direction. Doing that only makes me more curious, you know.

However, I don’t press the issue. If Gavin doesn’t want to speak to me about it than…that’s fine. It’s not really but I tell myself that because I don’t want to be that annoying friend who asks too many questions. I guess, maybe, Gavin doesn’t see us as being close. It hurts to think that way but it’s likely true.

"Good job," Gavin suddenly speaks, glancing at me from the corner of his eye, seeming to admire the attire that he had set out for me. "You actually wore it."

"You would have killed me if I didn't."

"Call me when you want to leave," Gavin says, making me turn my head to look at him. My jaw drops.

"What do you mean call you? You're gonna ditch me!" I knew that. Hell, Junior has been telling me all week Gavin was going to ditch me. I was kind of hoping he wouldn't but I see now that I shouldn't have bothered.

"Obviously. I'm not going to be the third wheel, dude," he says with a scrunched nose that shows his distaste towards the idea of walking around with a couple.

I sigh and lean back into the leather seats. "You'll find some chick in a second so bring her over with you."

"No way. I am going to find me some chick and get laid then find another one and do it again."

"You're a piece of shit sometimes, you know that?" I laugh.

"Says the virgin. Don’t worry, you’ll change your mind one day." Gavin smirks. I shake my head at the boy who I feel will never be in an honest relationship ever in his life. He's too much of a playboy who couldn't give two shits about a real relationship.

"Keep this up and you'll die alone," I say, thinking how much I sound like my mother afterwards. Eh, whatever. I'm apparently the mom in the relationship between Junior and I and Gavin is our child, apparently, so I can act motherly.

Gavin, rather than replying with a witty joke as he usually does, chuckles, almost sadly, and replies with a smile that for some reason makes my stomach churn. "Yeah, I will."

"Wow, man," I whisper, rubbing at my still churning stomach. "It was a joke. Don't agree with me. It makes me feel bad."

"Sorry. I was joking too," he says, reaching over to once again ruffle my hair. The action makes me flush and I pretend to fix the hair that was messy before he touched it. Gavin asks if I care if we listen to music to which I shake my head. He turns on the radio and taps his fingers to the beat of the music against the wheel.