We take a seat on the couch with one of my old college buddies, and after introducing him to Candace, we begin catching up. I keep my hand on her knee while I talk to my friend, but my mind is elsewhere. Bringing Candace here was more for her than for me. She had expressed to me that she was curious to get to know my friends since I’m now a part of her small circle with Jase and Mark, already knowing so much about the three of them. But these friendships here are superficial. None of them have a clue about Candace, and probably just assume she’s a random chick I’m banging. There was a time that I would hang out with these people on a regular basis, but it’s been a while.

The evening wears on, and eventually Candace leans into me, saying, “I’m gonna go get another drink. Want one?”

“Yeah, babe. Thanks.”

When she heads into the kitchen, Gavin flops down next to me.

“What the fuck is Gina doing here?” I ask under my breath.

“Dude, relax. She’s chill.”

“You still seeing her?”

Cocking his brow at me, he says, “First off, you know I don’t see anyone. But I haven’t hooked up with her in a while. Between you and me,” he says when he shifts himself on the couch, “she was only fuckin’ me to get to you.”

“What?”

“Yep. Her roommate told me, and that’s when I backed away from that crazy bitch,” he says with an exaggerated shudder.

“That’s sick,” I tell him and then add, “And you’re trying to tell me she’s chill?”

Gavin starts to respond, but I’m no longer listening when Candace walks back into the room, fuming mad. She doesn’t even stop when she passes me and snaps, “Take me home,” and then heads out the door.

Grabbing her coat, I don’t say shit to Gavin or even look back when I go outside.

“Candace,” I call out, and when she gets to my jeep, she turns, and I see the humiliation all over her face as she yells at me, “Did you sleep with that girl in there? Gina?”

I release a hard breath, hating that I have to do this to her, but she cuts me off before I can even open my mouth.

“Forget it. Just take me home.”

She opens the door and hops in. She’s pissed and rightfully so. I knew it was a mistake to bring her to Gavin’s. Why the hell would she want to see what I’m trying to forget? I don’t know what the fuck Gina said to her, but I hope I never run into her again.

As I start driving back across town, Candace is silent, staring out of her window.

“I didn’t know she was going to be there,” I start to tell her, needing to clear the air because I can’t stand her being upset like this. “When I saw her, I didn’t want to say anything to draw attention.”

She doesn’t speak. She only pulls her one knee up to her chest and turns to face out the window, giving me nothing but the back of her head. I don’t know if she’s crying or not, but the fact that she won’t talk to me hurts.

“Candace, say something.”

But she doesn’t. I know she wants to go home, but I’m selfish and don’t want her to run from me, so I take her to my place. Pulling up to my loft, she quietly says, “Ryan, I really just want to go home.”

I don’t respond when I get out of the car and walk around to open her door. Holding out my hand for her, she doesn’t protest when she takes it and follows me inside and up to my room.

“Ryan, what are you doing?” she finally asks when I drop her hand to grab her some clothes from my dresser.

“You’re not going home. Here,” I tell her when I hand her a pair of my boxers and a t-shirt.

She takes them and makes her way into my bathroom, closing the door behind her. I quickly change, not enjoying a second of this tension, but I’m not letting it go unresolved.

“Ryan,” she calls to me when she cracks the door open. “Can you bring me my purse?”

Picking it up off the bed, I go hand it to her before she shuts the door again. It bothers me that I’ve never seen her undressed. That she always hides herself in my bathroom to change. I’ve never been so in the dark with a girl before, and I don’t know what to make of it.

I turn the lights off but leave the shades on the panoramic windows open so that I can watch the rain that is now falling hard. The moon must be full with the glow of the clouds that casts a faint bluish hue throughout the room.

When she finally comes out of the bathroom, I watch her as she pads across the wooden floor and climbs up onto the bed. I never get tired of seeing her in my clothes, and when she slides in, I instinctively pull her into me, face to face.

“Talk to me,” I tell her softly.

She lets out a slow breath and is so forthcoming with me when she says, “I’m sorry. I’m not mad at you, and I shouldn’t have snapped at you. I just . . . I don’t like feeling the way she made me feel. It’s embarrassing.”

“She was nothing to me.”

Looking down, she hesitantly asks, “When did you . . . I mean . . . How long ago?”

“August or so,” I give her honestly. I brush her hair back when she closes her eyes and quietly say, “They were only there to distract me, but when I saw you, you faded everything I needed distracting from.”

“Did you love any of them?” she asks when she opens her eyes and looks at me.

“No.”

“Do you love me?”

“I’ve only ever loved you,” I assure her, not even wanting to think about the absurdity of her question.

When I roll myself on top of her, she doesn’t miss a beat when she pulls me down and kisses me. It’s strong and sure. It’s the first time she has ever kissed me this way, and I feel like I need it right now. The confirmation that we’re okay. I return her intensity when I dip my tongue inside of her mouth and start running my hand down her neck, over her shirt, and between her breasts. She fists my hair, and I’m gone.

My desire for closeness takes over, and I need to feel her skin against mine. Slipping my hand under her shirt, I notice she’s still wearing her bra when I take her in my hand. Her nipple hardens as I slide it between my two fingers, and when I press them together gently, her body arches up into mine, and I can’t control the moan that comes out of me.

“God, I want you,” I whisper when I sit back on my heels and pull her up to me. I can see it in her eyes, the want, so I don’t ask as I slowly start peeling her shirt off when she lifts her arms up.

Tossing the shirt aside, I look at her as I gradually run my hands down her sides. She’s perfect in her purple lace bra. She doesn’t have large breasts, but fuck, she’s sexy as hell, and I just want my hands all over her.

I peer into her eyes when she cups my face in her hands, and my heart starts beating in a way it never has before. “Babe . . .”

As I lay her back down, I drag my lips along her neck as she holds on to the sides of my head while I keep trailing down. I suck her nipple into my mouth, dragging my tongue over the swollen bud. Heat courses through me, and I need to feel more of her when I begin to run my fingers along the underside of her waistband. Hooking them under the fabric, I sit back, and when I slightly tug down, I see it.

No.

Suddenly, reality stabs into my chest, and I feel everything I never wanted to be true pour out of me. Time freezes. I can’t breathe, and the panging inside of me is unbearable. I know I can’t deny what I see, but I want to. Because it can’t be. It just can’t.

God, don’t let it be.

Slow motion. Everything moves in slow motion as I bring my hand to her hip, and with a trembling thumb, I drag it across what I can no longer blame on head-trips. I brush it again, not wanting to believe what my eyes see. A thin black outline of a tiny heart. That tiny heart from that night.

The thudding of my chest is painful; it’s the most painful thing I’ve ever felt in my entire life, and before I know it, she slings hers arms around me, but I’m in shock. I can’t fuckin’ move. I’m too scared.