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rolled to my side and hugged my knees to my chest, held the phone closer to my ear.

“So you want to tell me about it?”

“I don’t even know, Sarah. We were just supposed to be friends, and then it was like one day passed, and all of a sudden, I couldn’t live without him. Everything was fine until he asked me to go to this party with him last night. I should have known better than to go.”

I sucked in a breath. “I hated it there, Sarah. I mean, I can’t tell you how it felt to stand in that room and know he’s been with half the girls there. I went to the restroom, and when I came out, some girl was rubbing all over him. I couldn’t stand it, so I took off without telling him.”

“Liz.” Disapproval clouded her voice.

“I know, I know. It wasn’t cool, but I just couldn’t, Sarah. Then he showed up here at my place. The next thing I knew we were kissing, and then everything escalated out of control so fast.”

My head spun as I remembered the fear on Christian’s face when I’d asked him what it was he wanted, the way he’d stepped back to put distance between us because he no longer wanted to be in my space.

Because he didn’t know.

Who would have thought that word could be sharper than a knife?

“I don’t know how I was strong enough to stop, but I was. Those words came so close to leaving my mouth.”

The pain amplified, squeezing my chest as the word spun around me.

Love. Love. Love.

“I think he knew it . . . somehow saw it in me.”

“And what does he feel?”

“I don’t think he knows beyond the fact that he wants to have sex with me. He made that much clear.” Anger slipped into my voice. I couldn’t tell if it was directed at Christian or myself. Like I didn’t already know that the first time I met him.

“Elizabeth, he’s eighteen. Of course, he wants to have sex with you. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t care about you.”

“But that’s the thing, Sarah, I tried to force it out of him, to make him tell me what he feels. He said he didn’t know.”

I blew out a strained breath. “He said he was sorry then left. And that was it. He keeps calling and saying he’s sorry about what happened last night, asking if we can just go back to the way we were before. He has to know that’s not going to happen.”

It would be impossible.

There’s no way I could ever look at him without remembering the way his mouth felt on mine. The way my body had lit on fire.

“I’m sorry, Liz. But you are both so young.”

I grunted.

This coming from my sister who’d been with the guy she ended up marrying since she was seventeen. I knew she was just being rational, that we were young.

It was true.

But she knew me better than that.

Age had nothing to do with it, although I could only assume it did for Christian. Selfishness like that wasn’t easily shed, maturity hard to come by when everything had always been placed at his feet.

“Do you think I wanted to fall in love with him?”

Sarah’s voice was soft. “No, and I wasn’t minimizing what you feel, Liz. You just worked so hard to make it to New York, and I hate to see you waste it being hung up on a guy like that. He’s obviously kind of a jerk.”

I sighed and rolled to my back, staring at the ceiling. I’d calmed, the fog in my mind cleared.

Talking with my sister, getting it out, had worked as some kind of soothing balm. “I’m not even mad at him. I’m just mad at myself. It’s my fault for trying to make him into something he’s not.”

The hardest part was I saw the kind of man who could love me buried inside him, waiting to be discovered.

For a fleeting moment last night, I’d seen it staring back at me.

I sensed her shaking her head. “You’re kind of amazing, Liz.” Her words were filled with sincerity and comfort. “Most girls would be putting all the blame on the guy.”

“I am kind of amazing, right?” I forced the tease.

“Now, don’t get carried away,” she said through a laugh.

I sighed. “Thanks for listening, Sarah. I’m sorry I made this about me. I really am so very happy for you and Greg. I can’t wait to be an aunt.”

“Hey, I’m here for you whenever you need me. I know it has to be hard for you over there by yourself. And it’s Thanksgiving next week. It sucks you’re going to miss it. You’re still coming home for Christmas, aren’t you?”

I couldn’t afford to make the trip back twice, and there was no way I’d miss Christmas. “Yeah, I’m coming home.”

“Okay, good. Hang in there, Liz. It’ll all work out the way it’s supposed to.”

I had to believe that. “Thanks, Sarah.”

“Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

When I ended the call with my sister, I felt a little better.

Settled.

Resolved.

It was easy to admit it now, what I’d been feeling the last couple of months. The way my stomach would twist when I looked at Christian, the way it hurt when he was away, and how much I couldn’t wait until I saw him again.

It was patent in the devastation I’d felt seeing him with another girl last night at the party. Palpable in the way I’d succumbed to his touch when he kissed me.

I was in love with Christian.

Completely.

There was nothing I could do about it. No way to take it back. It was there. Strong. Interwoven and beating with my heart.

I had to end this. The only thing I could do was guard the last part of myself I had, because it would be so easy for me to give it to him now.

Last night, I’d come so close. I would have laid everything else aside while I let him consume me. Let him take it all.

He’d use me. Destroy me. Not because he wanted to, but just because that’s who he was.

Flopping onto my stomach, I buried my face in my pillow as if it could block out the depression this realization caused. Last night had cost me my best friend.

But I had to be wise enough to know he wasn’t just my friend. He never had been. This had always been there, lying in wait, an ambush set to take us over. Being around him was no longer an option.

My heart broke for myself because I’d fallen for someone like him. It broke for Christian because I knew there was a huge part of him who was truly kind.

The part of him who really needed a friend.

But I couldn’t be her anymore.

Eight Christian

I lay alone in my bed while morning threatened at my window.

Four days had passed since I talked to her.

Each one seemed to add a new element to the sadness that had taken me over.

I was miserable.

There was no other way to describe it.

Empty, vacant, that void I’d tried to fill with Elizabeth’s body now a hollow pang.

It was as if Elizabeth had punched me deep in the recesses of my chest, her hands as frantic as mine had been as she searched and struggled. Ultimately, when she found nothing that I could give her except disappointment, she’d ripped her life from me and left this gaping hole.

And I was the one who’d challenged her to do it.

I tugged my pillow over my face as if it could block out everything I didn’t want to see.

“Fuck,” I groaned. I tore it from my face and tossed it to the floor. There was nothing that could cover it up or blot it out.

In the cloudy dimness of the room, I sat up and rubbed the pain pressing at my bare chest.

I knew this would happen. I’d take the one pure thing in my life crush it.

The expression Elizabeth had borne Friday night flooded my mind.

In a futile defense, I squeezed my eyes closed against the memory, against the truth of it, but there was nothing I could do to elude it.

The image was like a parasite that had glommed on, dug in, feasting on the ignorance of its host.

It was slowly killing me.

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