“Nothing!” she yelled. “Nothing is fucking wrong with me. And you—you have no right to control me like that. From where I stand, you and me—we’re nothing. I haven’t promised anything and neither have you.” She started walking hastily away from me.

   I grabbed her arm and made her turn to me. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

   “You!” She pushed against my chest. “August 19. That’s all you’ve promised me. Maybe that’s not enough anymore!”

   My heart dropped. It felt as if all the air had been knocked out of me. “What do you want me to say, Chloe? What the hell do you want me to do? Tell me, and I’ll do it!”

   Her shoulders sagged, and a sob took over. “Nothing, okay? I want you to do nothing.”

   She started walking back to the hotel. I followed, a few feet behind her, completely lost in my own thoughts.

   What the fuck just happened?

   Once we got to the hotel, I changed into my running gear, craving the numbness I knew the run would provide. “I’ll be back soon.”

   She got into bed without bothering to change and nodded, refusing to look at me.

   Chloe

   “Chloe.” I could hear his voice, but he sounded far away. Then something nudged my leg. “Chloe,” he said again.

   I waited for the room to stop spinning before opening my eyes.

   Blake was hovering above me, chewing his thumb. “Hey.”

   “Hey,” I replied, sitting up to try to clear my head.

   He sat on the edge of the bed, his head down. Then his gaze lifted and locked with mine. “I’m gonna take off. I just wanted you to know . . . so you don’t wake up in the morning and wonder what happened.”

   He was leaving?

   I sat up straighter and tried to stop myself from throwing up. Not because of the alcohol but because of what was happening. And even though I’d expected it to happen, even needed it to happen, I’d never wanted it to happen. Not for a second. “Okay.”

   All it took was that single word—that one response of approval—and I could see his heart shatter right in from of me. He sniffed and looked away. I followed his gaze, and my heart tightened like a vise. His bags were already packed. “Now?” I squeaked.

   He stood up slowly. “I got another room for the night. I’m leaving in the morning. You can have the car until you get something else, then just contact my mom. She’ll take care of it.”

   The ache in my chest became so painful I wanted to reach in and rip my heart out, throw it against the wall, and watch it as it slowly stopped beating and died. Maybe that was what was happening to me; maybe I was slowly dying.

   I nodded.

   He reached for his bag, picked it up, and took one step toward the door.

   And that was when it happened.

   My heart kicked back in, and I panicked. I lost all restraint from earlier. I jumped to my feet on the bed and wrapped my arms around his neck. “Blake, please,” I cried.

   He dropped his bag and turned to me, but his hands didn’t touch me. “What, Chloe? What do you want?”

   “Don’t,” I begged.

   He shook his head. “Don’t what? I don’t know what the hell you want.”

   All I could do was cry. The words were there. Don’t leave me. But I just couldn’t bring myself to say them out loud—to break the promise I’d made myself to never let anyone in.

   He removed my arms from around him and took a step back, the sadness and regret clear on his face. “You can’t even say it, can you? You don’t even know what you want.” He took another step closer to the door.

   The thought of him leaving, walking away, and never seeing him again sent my mind into overdrive. “I do!” I reached for him again. “I want you, Blake.” I jumped off the bed and wrapped my legs around him. And then I kissed him. With everything I had. But he didn’t kiss me back. Instead, he tried to pull me off him. “Chloe. Stop.”

   I held on to him more tightly. “Please.”

   I physically felt it. The moment when his body won out, and he gave in to me. His hands moved down my back, onto my ass, gripping it hard, and hauling me closer to him. Then he finally started kissing back. But it wasn’t Blake, not the usual him. Not the one that liked things slow, liked to savor me so he could get to know me. It was another part of him kissing me. It was pure need. Pure lust. He dropped me on the bed and looked down at me. I never released my hold.

   He shook his head. “Chloe.”

   I didn’t know if it was a question or a warning, but either way, it didn’t matter. Not when I started kissing him again. Not when I pushed his sweats past his hips, just enough to free his erection. Not when he cursed under his breath and said my name again. Not even when I held it in my hands and brought it to my entrance. I didn’t bother removing my panties, and neither did he. He just pushed the material aside and thrust his fingers into me.

   “Fuck, Chloe, I can’t do this,” he said as he dropped his head next to mine.

   I gripped his hair tightly and kissed his neck. “Please, Blake. I need you.”

   He groaned before pulling his fingers out and replacing them with his erection.

   I winced from the shock of him filling me.

   It was rushed, rough, and over quickly.

   I cried the entire time.

   He stilled on top of me. “Mother fucker!” He punched the pillow next to my head, and jerked himself out of me. He sniffed as he hastily sat up on his heels.

   I wiped the tears of embarrassment from my cheeks and jumped in the shower. I cried as I tried to wash the filth off me, but it didn’t work, because the filth wasn’t on me. It was in me. I was ashamed.

   I’d used sex as a way to keep him there, and it’d worked.

   For now.

   When I stepped out of the bathroom, he was sitting on the edge of the bed, his head in his hands. “I didn’t use a condom,” he muttered.

   “Oh,” I said, surprised. It hadn’t even occurred to me while we were having sex. I always used a condom, even in my cross-faded states, I’d made sure of it. But with Blake, I hadn’t even thought about it. “I have an IUD. I’m protected.”

   “That’s not—” he sighed. “That’s not the point.” But he wasn’t talking to me. “I don’t even know what the hell the point is.” He tied the laces on his running shoes and stood up. “I’m going for a run.”

   And even though a part of me had thought he would, it still surprised me that he was. He’d told me why he ran; he’d said he did it to feel numb—that when things got to be too much sometimes, he wanted to feel nothing. That moment was his moment of nothing. He walked to the door with his head down, refusing to make eye contact. I was sure he was disgusted by me, ashamed of what I’d just done.