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"When I was a kid I always wished I had siblings," Alex says softly, cradling Lauren at his side. "I figured it would be like having built-in friends or something, you know? Like I'd always have someone to play with and hang out with and stuff."

"It kinda is. That's how Trevor and I were."

Alex shrugs his free shoulder. "I guess it's probably a good thing I was an only child, though. My mother didn't need any more kids to screw up."

Lauren is quiet for a moment. Her lips part and a soft breath passes through instead of words, but she drags them out eventually. "What was it like growing up with your mom? She seems like such a--character."

"That she is. The thing is, she always tried. She really did. It just wasn't enough. I don't wanna sound like a brat, but ... she just never really paid attention to me. It was like I was always fighting to be her number one focus."

"And you've never really known your dad, have you?"

"I've only met him a couple of times. And he's sent money about that often. Sometimes birthday cards, too. I don't know, because he wasn't there, it just didn't matter to me. Maybe it was my way of not being hurt by it, but I just never really cared that he wasn't there. I guess deep down I did, but ... I never sat around mooning over the fact that I didn't have a dad."

She leans closer into him. "You must've grown a pretty thick skin pretty quickly."

"I dunno about that."

"Sure seems like it to me sometimes. The way you keep yourself from opening up, even though I can see that something is hurting you--"

"That's not a thick skin. It's a defense mechanism."

"What do you mean?"

"I just learned early on to keep my mouth shut," he says.

She looks up at him. "Why?"

"Because ..." He exhales heavily, not sure if he can or should say any of this. He's run over it so many times in his mind, but he's never shared it with anyone.

"I just had a hard time growing up," he says finally. "Kids -- they can be cruel, right? And they were."

"To you? Why?" She smiles. "I don't see a hell of a lot to make fun of."

He brushes the comment aside. "There's plenty."

"I was just kind of a loser," he says, pushing himself onward. "I dunno, I didn't mix well with other kids. I was really shy ... I wasn't comfortable around any of them. And I don't know if they picked up on that or what, but ... I always got made fun of and stuff."

"Really? Like how?"

"Stupid stuff. But I was always the kid they made fun of when they had nothing else to talk about. You remember how that worked?"

"Good old school days," she mutters, raising her eyebrows.

"You know what I used to do at recess in middle school? I sat on the curb the whole time. Sometimes I saved my homework to do at recess just so I wouldn't have to sit there without anything to do."

"Ohhh ... Alex, that's awful."

He rolls his eyes. "Yeah, it's pretty pathetic, huh?"

"No. I mean it's awful that you had to spend your time like that." She takes his hand in hers and grips it firmly. "I'm sorry ... that must have been hard."

"Yeah, it was ... probably more than I even acknowledged. But I think maybe that's why I have trouble opening up and stuff. 'Cause I never had anyone to talk to when I was younger. I've never had any practice."

He cracks a tiny grin. To Lauren, even that simple gesture lights up his entire face. She reaches to touch his cheek.

"You've got someone to talk to now," she says softly, raising her face to his. "That's what I'm here for -- it's what I want to be here for."

Silently, Alex accepts the brushing of her lips against his. The pressure builds and he doesn't fight it. To be able to open up to someone ...

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