It wasn't hard to avoid Andy for the rest of the day. I stayed as far away as possible; meanwhile, he surrounded himself with a group of teammates at all times. We hadn't spoken after Coach startled us, just pushed away from each other. I fled to the shore while Andy stayed in the water. I was content to pretend that the intense moment had never happened, and Andy seemed to agree.
            Though it didn't stop him from watching me. His eyes followed me curiously for much of the day, only looking away when I caught him. I ignored the nervous twist of my stomach, telling myself that he was probably trying to decipher why one of his best friends had tried to kiss him.
            Even though I hadn't been the one leaning in for it.
            By the time the sky had darkened to blue-black night, I was cursing the sun, wincing at the sting of sunburn across my skin. It had left my shoulders and chest hot and painful, and it was worse on my face. The huge bonfire in front of me only made my burned cheeks and nose hurt worse.
            Not that I planned on moving, though. Directly across the circle, his face shadowed and glowing from the flames, sat Andy. Distracted by hot dogs and marshmallows being roasted, he had stopped staring at me, giving me the chance to study him.
            His eyes were not the clear, innocent brown that I had grown used to. They were anxious, worried...or maybe that was just some combination of the firelight and a lot of wishful thinking.
            Shadows danced over his features, and eventually, he looked up and met my eyes, holding my gaze even though my mind was screaming at me to look away. Something unspoken passed between us then, and I forced my legs to move. I walked away from the bonfire, away from the sting of the heat, away from Andy. I stopped walking when the waves lapped at my ankles, and I just stared out over the lake, letting the constant rippling of moonlight on the water relax my nerves.
            "I'm leaving in September."
            His voice was barely loud enough to hear, but he was standing close. Too close. Close enough that chills broke out over my burned skin, making me grimace.
            "I'm leaving in a few months," he repeated from just behind me, and I nodded.
            "I heard you. In September," I said, not trusting myself to turn and look at him. Leaving? "Where are you going?"
            "Portland. A team down there recruited me."
            Portland. Probably the Winterhawks, where Brad had gone. Paul would be interested to know that his best friend and mine would be on the same team now.
            "When did all of this happen?" I asked, forcing the tremble from my voice and the lump from my throat.
            "I decided a few days ago. Aside from my parents, you're the only one to know," he confided, shrugging.
            "Congrats," I said dumbly, keeping my eyes focused on a point far ahead of me. He didn't talk for a long time, but when he did, his voice was even softer. Almost scared.
            "Why were you shaking?"
            "When?" I asked, ducking the obvious.
            "On the bus, you were shaking."
            I raised one shoulder, then let it fall, "I told you. The bus jerked, it jarred me awake."
            He hesitated, mouth half formed into a word, "But...you were shaking before you woke up. And you were saying something."
            Oh no, I thought, a cold tingle coursing down my spine.
            "I couldn't tell what, but you sounded upset. What were you dreaming?" he pushed, and I felt his eyes on me again.
            "Don't worry about it, Andy. I am fine. It was a stupid little nightmare," I insisted, still refusing to look at him.
            He raked his fingers through his hair and let out a ragged breath. "You don't have to be so secretive all the time. You can let other people help you."
            "I'm fine," I said, shrugging.
            "You weren't fine when you cried to me when your mom died," he countered, "But I was there for you then. Why don't you trust me now?"
            He waited for an answer, but I wasn't going to give him one. That would mean telling him a lot of things that he could never be allowed to know.
            "Everyone needs help sometimes," he said, frustration in his tone. "You can't do everything on your own, Mike."
            He stalked away, muttering, and I promised him silently that everything was okay. I was going to prove him wrong. I could--and would--be just fine on my own.