His lips were too soft and tentative. Pillow lips. His breath tasted like potatoes. I was aware of the ticking clock above the stove, the sound of someone yelling in an apartment nearby. Did I notice anything when I kissed Will? I noticed the way he smelled, the way his skin felt beneath my fingertips and the way it felt like I might explode if I didn’t touch me there and deeper. But never anything as commonplace as the garbage trucks rumbling outside.

“What’s wrong?” Dylan said, taking a step back. I touched my lips; they felt fine, not swollen or abused. Not thoroughly ruined.

“I don’t think this is going to work,” I said.

He was quiet for a moment, eyes searching mine, obviously confused. “But I thought—”

“I know,” I said. “I’m sorry.”

He nodded, taking another step back before running his hands through his hair. “I guess . . . If this is about Will, well, tell him congratulations.”I closed the door behind Dylan and turned, pressing my back to the cool wood. My phone felt heavy and leaden in my pocket and I pulled it out, found the name of He Who Effectively Hijacked My Brain, and started to type.

I started and erased a dozen different messages before finally stopping on one. I typed it and waited just a moment before I pressed SEND.

Where are you

Chapter Ten

Honestly, I had no idea what I was doing. I was walking—walking like I had somewhere to be. But in reality, I didn’t have to be anywhere, and I really didn’t need to be headed directly to Hanna’s apartment building.

Yeah, my place. He’s coming back, I’ll let you know how it goes.

My hands formed fists at the memory of the text—the words were burned onto my brain—and the image of her in there, with Dylan. It made my chest literally ache. And I kind of wanted to break everything I saw.

It was cold; so cold I could see my breath, and my fingertips were growing numb even shoved deep into my pockets. As soon as I got her text, I’d run out of the house, no gloves, a too-light jacket, and running shoes, no socks.

For the span of seven city blocks, I was furious with her for doing this to me. I’d been fine until she came fumbling into my life with her chatterbox mouth and mischievous eyes. I’d been fine before she pushed her way into my easy routine, and I half wanted Dylan to get the f**k out of her apartment so I could go upstairs and tell her what a pain in the ass she was, how pissed I was at her for pulling the very stable, predictable ground out from under me.

But as I approached, and saw lights on in her window, saw the shadows of bodies upright and moving around, I felt only relief that she wasn’t already prone on her bed, beneath him.

Pulling my hat farther down over my head, I growled through my teeth, looking along the street for a coffee shop, or something else to do. But there were only more apartment buildings, retail shops that had long since closed, and, in the distance, a little bar. The last thing I needed right now was alcohol. And if I was two blocks away from her apartment, then I might as well be home.

How long would I wait here? Until she texted me again? Until morning, when they emerged together, rumpled and smiling over their shared memories of the night before—of Hanna’s perfection and Dylan’s lame inexperience?

I groaned, looking up just in time to see a man leaving the apartment building, head bent into the wind, collar up. My heart tripped. It was definitely Dylan, and although my veins filled with the warm hum of relief, the fact that I could so easily recognize him from a distance made me feel like the creepiest ass**le of all time. I waited to see if he was going to return, but he kept moving down the block, never slowing his pace.

That’s it, I told myself. You’ve crossed a line and need to find your way back to the other side.

But what if she needed me? I should probably stay to make sure she was okay before walking home. I stared at my phone, brows drawn. If I left here, I was going for a run. I didn’t care that it was almost eleven at night and freezing out; I was going to run for f**king miles. I was so buzzed with relief, and frustration, and nervous energy that I could barely steady my thumb long enough to click on the icon and open our text thread.

I exhaled when I saw that she was already typing something to me.

It felt like minutes, entire minutes during which I gripped my phone, staring intently and waiting for her message to appear. Finally it delivered, and instead of the paragraphs I was expecting, it said only, Where are you

I laughed, dragging my hand through my hair, and took a deep breath. OK, don’t kill me, I typed. I’m outside your apartment.

Hanna came out of the building wearing a heavy down jacket over a silky blue dress, bare legs, and Kermit the Frog slippers. She shuffled toward me and I couldn’t move, could barely breathe.