I felt a brief pang of guilt before I straightened, meeting his eyes. “No.”

I moved to unlock the door, keeping some distance between us.

“What the f**k is going on?” he asked, following me inside.

Okay, so we were doing this now. I looked at his clothes. He’d obviously just come from work and I had to wonder if he’d stopped by here before going to meet . . . her. You know, to make the rounds and settle things down before stepping out with someone else. I wasn’t sure I would ever understand how he could be so wild about me, while f**king other women.

“I thought you had a late meeting,” I murmured, turning to drop my keys on the counter.

He hesitated, blinking several times before saying, “I do. It’s at six.”

Laughing, I murmured, “Right.”

“Hanna, what the hell is going on? What did I do?”

I turned to face him . . . but chickened out, staring at the tie loosened at his neck instead, his striped shirt. “You didn’t do anything,” I started, breaking my own heart. “I should have been honest about my feelings. Or . . . lack of feelings.”

His eyes went wide. “Excuse me?”

“Things at my parents’ house were weird. And being so close, almost getting caught? I think that was the real thrill for me. Maybe I got carried away with everything we said on Saturday night.” I turned away, fidgeted with a stack of mail on a table and felt the crackling, dried layers of my heart peel away and leave nothing but a hollow shell. I forced a smile on my face and gave him a casual shrug. “I’m twenty-four, Will. I just want to have fun.”

He stood there and blinked, swaying slightly as if I’d hurled something at him heavier than words. “I don’t understand.”

“I’m sorry. I should have called or . . .” I shook my head, trying to shake the sound of static in my ears. My skin felt hot; my chest ached like my ribs were caving in. “I thought I could do this but I can’t. This weekend just solidified that for me. I’m sorry.”

He took a step back and glanced around like he’d just woken up and realized where he was. “I see.” I watched him swallow, run a hand through his hair. As if he’d remembered something, he looked up. “Does this mean you won’t run on Saturday? You’ve trained really hard and—”

“I’ll be there.”

He nodded once before turning, walking out the door, and disappearing, probably forever.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

There was a hill near my mom’s house, just before the turn down the driveway. It was an uphill followed by a blind downhill curve, and we’d learned to honk whenever we went over it, but when people drove it for the first time, they were never aware of how tricky it was at first and would later always tell us how crazy that turn was.

I supposed my mom or I could have put up a curved mirror at some point, but we never did. Mom said she liked using only her horn, she liked that moment of faith, where she knew my schedule and she knew the curve so well she didn’t need to see what was ahead in order to know it was clear. The thing was, I was never sure whether I loved or hated that feeling myself. I hated having to hope the coast was clear, hated not knowing what was coming, but I loved the moment of exhilaration when the car would coast downhill, clear and free.

Hanna made me feel this way. She was my blind curve, my mysterious hill, and I’d never been able to shake the lingering suspicion that she’d send something the other way that would crash blindly into me. But when I was with her, close enough to touch and kiss and hear all of her crazy theories on virginity and love, I’d never felt such a euphoric combination of calm, elation, and hunger. In those moments, I stopped caring that we might crash.

I wanted to think her brush off tonight as a glitch, a scary curve that would soon straighten out, and that my relationship with her wasn’t over before it even started. Maybe it was her youth; I tried to remember myself at twenty-four and could really only see a young idiot, working crazy hours in the lab and then spending night after night with different women in all manners of wildness. In some ways, Hanna was such an older twenty-four than I’d ever been; it was like we weren’t even the same species. She was right so long ago when she said she always knew how to be a grown-up and needed to learn how to be a kid. She’d just accomplished her first immature blow-off with a complete lack of clear communication.

Well done, Plum.

I’d put Kitty in a cab and returned to work around eight, intent on diving into some reading, and trying to get out of my own head for a few hours. But as I passed Max’s office on the way to mine, I saw that his light was still on, and he was sitting inside.