My chest rose and fell with every short breath. I was gasping, trying to level my breathing. But he kissed me again, and I knew I was losing control, too. He shifted onto his side but never stopped kissing me. His hand lay flat on my stomach, the heat of it matching the heat between my legs. And then it moved. Lower, until it settled on my thigh, past the hem of my dress.

   He pulled away, allowing us both to catch our breaths. “You’re so beautiful, Chloe,” he whispered. My eyes drifted shut. He kissed my lips once. Then his hand moved higher. I felt the material of my dress slipping upwards. “I want you so damn bad.”

   I parted my legs. I wanted him, too. I wanted him everywhere. His mouth moved to my neck, sucking lightly, while his hand moved higher until it was where I wanted it. His single finger brushed the space between my legs, over my panties. I knew I was wet. He moaned into my skin—he knew it, too. His mouth sucked harder while his fingers pushed the material aside. The cold air hit my wetness. Then a single finger slid up, and then painfully, slowly, down. My body tingled all over. I’d never experienced this before. Not when I was sober. A clear head magnified the intensity of what I was feeling. Not just physically. Then I felt his finger slide slowly inside me. My back arched off the bed. I refused to open my eyes when I felt the throbbing ache begin.

   His lips moved up to mine. “Chloe,” he said against them.

   I panted in response. Then he paused and pulled away. “I’m sorry, Chloe,” he whispered.

   My eyes snapped open. “What?”

   “I can’t . . . I need to break up with Hannah before—”

   Then a door opened downstairs. It sounded far away, but it wasn’t.

   I forced myself to look away, trying to compose myself. The footsteps on the stairs got louder.

   “Shit!” I pushed him away, stood up, and adjusted my dress. He did the same, adjusting his hard-on trapped in his jeans.

   “Hey, Blake, come shoot some baskets,” Sammy said from my doorway.

   Blake opened his mouth to speak, but I did it for him. “Blake needs to go home now,” I said. “Say good-bye, Sammy.”

   “Five minutes?” he begged, his eyes pleading.

   I inhaled deeply. “I’m sorry, Sammy, but Blake’s leaving now. I’ll come out in a bit and play, okay?”

   “Okay.” His footsteps faded as he walked back down the stairs.

   “Chloe.” Blake reached out, but I pulled away, taking a step back.

   “This is exactly what I didn’t want.”

   “Chloe,” he repeated, quieter this time. “What are you talking about?”

   “You and me . . . us . . . This can’t be a thing.” I pushed back my sob before speaking. “I can’t be what you want, Blake. I’m sorry. Can you just leave? Please?”

   I could tell he didn’t want to go, but he turned and left without another word.

   I watched him get into his car from my window, with tears streaming down my face. It was too much. I never should have let him get so close. Now he was willing to change his life for me, and I couldn’t do the same for him. No matter how much I wanted to.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

   Blake

   I’d left Chloe’s last night and done what I’d told her I would do: I’d broken up with Hannah. It had been easier than I’d thought. Especially when she’d told me that she’d been fucking Will for the last six months. I could lie and say that I cared, but I just didn’t. And apparently, neither did she. “You’re the asshole, and I’m the girl with the heartless ex-boyfriend who dumped me for no good reason. Everyone’s going to take my side,” she’d said.

   I’d gone running after that. I’d gotten home and tried to sleep, only to push the covers off, put my sneakers back on, and bail. I’d been unable to get Chloe out of my head.

   Which was why I was currently at school, walking to my locker in a complete zombie state.

   A roar of laughter pulled me out of my daze. I strolled over to where a crowd had formed in front of a bay of lockers. Since I was taller than most of the other students, I was able to see what everyone was looking at. The word Whore, spray-painted bright red on a locker.

   “Excuse me.” The crowd parted. I knew her voice before I saw her face. And when I did, I wished I hadn’t. She brushed past me, her head down.

   I tried to get her attention with my hand on her arm. “Chloe.”

   She yanked it away. “It’s fine,” she mumbled, never looking up from the floor.

   My fingers straightened, releasing their hold. The sadness in her tone caused an ache in my chest. Then she looked up at me, her glazed eyes locked with mine. Silence fell, or it could have just been in my head. She opened her mouth, but nothing came out. She just shook her head and walked away.

   I followed her out to the parking lot, but by the time I got there, she was already in her car driving away.

   I wanted to follow her and make sure she was okay, but Hannah was waiting for me at my car, which was odd because classes hadn’t even started yet. She must’ve known I’d be pissed about Chloe and would want to take off. Which meant that she knew what had happened to Chloe’s locker, even while she was out there, waiting for me to show up. I wanted to believe that it hadn’t been Hannah’s doing, but seeing her standing there, with a smug smirk on her face—there was no doubt. “You’re a bitch.”

   “And your new girlfriend’s a whore.”

   “Fuck you.”

   My tires spun and screeched as I sped out of the school parking lot.

   By the time I pulled up to the curb outside Chloe’s house, I had calmed myself down. I wanted to see her. No. I needed to see her. Only her car wasn’t there. And neither was anyone else’s. There was only one other place I knew to look, but she wasn’t at Clayton’s restaurant, either. I pressed the buzzer to Clayton’s apartment, and he appeared in the same disheveled state, the way I’d always seen him.

   “She doesn’t want to see you.”

   So she was there. “Maybe she can come down and tell me that herself.”

   He raised his hands above his head and gripped the door frame. The muscles in his arms and shoulders bulged. He was a few years older than me, but I was taller. I wondered for a moment if I could take him, just long enough so I could run up to his apartment and see her. I looked over his shoulder, hoping for a glimpse of her, but all I saw were stairs.

   He moved his head, blocking my view. “I don’t know what happened, but something obviously upset her. If you care about her at all—just give her some time. Some space. Okay?” He didn’t sound pissed, more like concerned. But he also didn’t wait for my answer before closing the door in my face.