“Emma, please.”

  “No way. I can’t risk the crucifixion. I just can’t. I’m sorry, but no.” And just like that, she ends the call.

  “Damn it!” Slamming my palms against the steering wheel, I scream out, hating myself for being so stupid, hating Tripp for ripping us apart, and hating Emma when I don’t even have a true reason to hate her. Her concern is valid, and truth is, it’s what is likely to happen.

  So, what was all this for?

  What have I done?

  Emma

  The bass of the music thumps heavily, rattling the dance floor and sending its vibrations through my body, which is halfway to numb. With my arms in the air, I lean my head back as the guy I’m dancing with moves in closer from behind me. Lights strobe throughout the club, and Olivia’s laughter echoes from nearby.

  Where?

  I’m not sure.

  I’ve drowned my anxiety in liquor to the point of freedom. Freedom from my financial burdens, freedom from Carly calling me the other day and stressing me the fuck out, freedom from just about everything.

  One shot, two shot, three shot, blasted is what I am.

  Hot Guy pillows my head with his broad shoulder as he moves in perfect time with the music. He told me his name, but that was after my blood dissolved into alcohol, and I don’t remember what it is. With his hands low on my hips, he turns me around when the DJ shifts into another song with the same beat. I slip my arms around his shoulders to keep my balance, and when one of Olivia’s friends holds out another shot for me, Hot Guy takes it and pours it into my mouth as they all cheer me on.

  There’s no flavor.

  No burn.

  No anything as I dance the night away.

  My head spins, taking me on a wild tilt-a-whirl, and when I open my eyes, I find myself on a small leather couch in the back of the club. Hot Guy is nowhere in sight, but Olivia is stumbling up the two steps to where I’m sitting. She flops down next to me in a fit of giggles as the rest of her girlfriends follow up the steps, equally amused by whatever the hell they find to be so funny.

  “Are you having fun?” she yells over the music, to which I give a lazy nod. “Are you wasted?”

  Again, another nod. I’m not sure how to get my muscles to move in order to talk.

  Girls’ night. When the day rolled around, I was already regretting my choice to join them. It’s one thing for me to hit a local campus bar with Luca and have a few drinks, but this is the nonsense I try to avoid. Yet, here I am, in the throngs of desperate, horny drunk people who are looking for their next lay.

  I’m blinded when the lights flash on, and then someone announces, “Last call!”

  “Shit,” I groan, slinging my arm over my eyes.

  The music lowers in volume, and a few people flock to the bar to get their last drink before calling it a night.

  “I need a taxi,” I slur to anyone who’s paying attention. “Can someone call me a ride?”

  “I’ll be your ride,” Olivia chirps. “I’m not tossing you in some skeezy taxi.”

  My eyes fall shut as the girls continue to squeal and laugh. My hands have finally lost all feeling, causing me to grin. At least, I think I’m grinning. It isn’t until Olivia and one of her friends pull me to my feet that I realize my legs are numb too.

  With the three of us clinging together, we pass by Hot Guy on the way out to the parking lot. He shoves something into the pocket of my pants and follows it up with a hard slap to my ass.

  Somehow, I’m able to feel its sting.

  “Was he hot or am I just drunk?” I ask to anyone who cares.

  “No, girl. He’s definitely hot,” one of them answers. “Who is he?”

  “I dunno.”

  Frigid air nips my skin when we make it outside. I’m doing the best I can to carry my weight as they help me to Olivia’s car, but I’m on my way to blacking out when a parking curb takes me down. Tripping, I fall onto my knees as my shins slam hard against the block.

  “Fucking hell!” I seethe in pain.

  “Are you okay?”

  The two of them pull me back up to my unstable feet, and thank God her car is only a few more steps away. They help me into the passenger seat, and somehow, I manage to fasten the seatbelt. Fumbling, I find the button to recline back, and before I know it, the car is moving and I’m fading.

  A sensation of movement dizzies me before my eyes open. The weight of boulders on me makes it difficult to move, but I eventually get my eyelids to flutter open. Blades of sunlight stab my vision, and I slam my eyes closed again. My muscles ache when I roll onto my belly, and this time, I don’t rush as I slowly open my eyes, taking in the morning light in fractions.

  “Kill me now,” I mumble into my pillow.

  The room spins and so does my head. I can’t recall the last time I felt this hungover. I vaguely remember dancing with some guy for most of the night while I also consumed far too much alcohol. The details are static, and I can’t remember how I even got home last night or who put me in my bed.

  Lifting the covers, I see I’m still in the same clothes, and I reek of cigarette smoke while the aftertaste of vodka lingers in my mouth. I grow nauseated, and when my stomach gurgles, I bolt to the bathroom, expelling god knows what into the toilet. Gripping the seat, another expulsion bubbles in my gut before I hurl again. Tears fall as I rest my cheek against the cold porcelain and attempt to take in a deep breath.

  I curse myself for getting as drunk as I did because this hangover is already something fierce. My hand is dead weight when I reach up to flush all that remains from last night. Closing the lid, I pull myself up and sit with my head hanging between my knees to ward off my lightheadedness. Once my vision clears, I drag myself over to the shower, turn on the water, and strip out of my clothes.

  About thirty minutes later, I’m dressed in fresh pajamas with the hint of toothpaste still on my tongue. As much as I want to go back to bed, I want coffee even more.

  While I’m in the kitchen waiting for my coffee to finish brewing, I riffle through the fridge to find a decent flavor of creamer. It’s as I’m closing the door that I hear Luca coming out of his room. When I turn to ask him if he wants coffee too, I’m taken aback when I see Olivia instead, looking sloppy with a terrible case of bedhead.

  She stops in her step when she catches eyes with me, and neither of us speak as we stare at each other.

  I feel like I’m going to be sick again.

  “Hey,” she says meekly as she makes her way over to the island bar top where her purse sits.

  There’s no need to ask why she’s here, and no, it doesn’t irk the shit out of me in the same way it usually does when a random girl stumbles out of his room. This is a different level of annoyance. It’s scathing.

  As much crap as Luca talks about this girl, why the hell would he even go there with her . . . again?

  I don’t say a word, and next thing I know, Luca is walking out of his room in nothing but his boxer briefs. His eyes lock on to mine, causing an eruption from somewhere deep inside me.

  I’m angry when I have no reason to be, so the emotion is confusing.

  “I’ll call you later?” Olivia asks, and all I can give her is a feeble, “Whatever.”

  I dump the creamer into my coffee, the front door closes, and I take my mug back to my room.

  “Emma—”

  The door slams behind me, cutting him off. Setting my coffee on the nightstand, I crawl back into bed as my emotions stir from beneath the surface.

  I feel like crying, and I’m not entirely sure why. A big part of me wants to lie to myself and say it’s because of everything that I’ve been dealing with lately, but, damn it, if there isn’t a pit of jealousy in my gut.

  There’s a light tap on my door, and before I can even speak, he opens it and steps inside.

  I should have remembered the lock.

  He holds a glass of water as he walks over to my bed. “Here. You should take these.” He then opens his palm, dropping a few pills next to my cup of coffee before setting the water next to it.

  I want to thank him, but even more, I want to yell at him and tell him to stop fucking everything with a pulse.

  “You were completely passed out last night. I had to carry you in from the car,” he explains. “You shouldn’t drink that much.”

  “What are you now? My dad?” My words come with fangs meant to bite, and I can see their infliction within his expression.

  His eyes fall from mine, and he opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. He’s clearly uncomfortable, and even though a part of me wants to soothe him, I don’t because I’m too confused. The moment he lifts his head is the same moment I look away to avoid him.

  “I’m sorry.” It’s all he leaves me with before walking out and closing my door.

  Turning onto my side, I peer out the window and stare into nothingness.

  His words echo in my head.

  I’m sorry.

  It isn’t the words I hone in on, it’s how he said them. His tone, his inflection, his meaning behind them. Something about his apology tells me it wasn’t about him intruding into my personal space.

  No.

  His sorry was for something else, but I’m too hungover to dissect it.

  Sighing, I roll over and swallow the pills, secretly wishing I had the whole bottle just so I could be with my parents again. Instead, I close my eyes and pray I find them in my dreams.

  Emma

  Waking up to darkness, the world is no longer spinning, but I’m so thirsty. I pick up the glass of water that’s next to the untouched cup of coffee and swallow it in large gulps. It’s close to nine in the evening, and I can’t believe I slept the day away.

  My stomach growls, begging for food, so I sling the covers off me and head out to the kitchen. Walking past the living room I notice a slew of beer bottles on the coffee table and a half-smoked joint in an ashtray, none of which were there this morning.

  Luca’s door is closed, and by the looks of it, he’s probably been here all day.

  Something is wrong.

  It takes me a moment to realize that my anger from earlier has dissipated, and I let go of whatever it was that had me so bitchy and knock on his door. When there’s no answer, I let myself in to find him slouched on the loveseat that sits by the large windows. More beer bottles are scattered about, and he has me worried when he doesn’t look up.

  “Is everything okay?” I ask softly, and when I do, he finally looks up with bloodshot eyes. “Luca?” I go to him, taking the bottle that’s dangling from his fingers and sit next to him. “You’re scaring me.”

  He leans back, resting his head on the cushion and staring up to the ceiling. “You’re scaring me.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  He shakes his head, remaining silent, but his behavior right now . . . it isn’t like him.

  “I’m serious, Luca. Why do you say I’m scaring you?”

  His head tilts to face me, and his eyes are both bloodshot and glassy. “Because you’re you,” he says, pausing for a beat before adding, “And because I’m me.”

  “We’re who we’ve always been.”

  “Exactly.”

  I pivot so that I’m facing him dead on, not understanding anything he’s saying. Sure, he’s been drinking all day, but I can tell he isn’t totally wasted, just a little drunk; he’s simply running off the remaining fumes of what he’s consumed, so I push him to explain and ask, “What’s wrong with who I am?”

  “Nothing.” He sighs. “That’s the problem . . . you’re perfect.”

  “I’m not.”

  Sitting up, he props his forearms on his knees, refuting, “You are. You always have been.”

  “So, what’s wrong with who you are?”

  “Everything.” He drops his head. “Which is why we’ll never work.”

  His words come out of leftfield, catching me completely off guard. Did he just admit to having feelings for me?

  “I don’t know why I even let my head go there with you.”

  “Go where exactly?” I ask, needing not to misconstrue whatever it is he’s trying to say. When he doesn’t answer, I press on. “Just be honest with me.”

  It isn’t until I lay my hand on his knee to get his attention that he turns to me. It takes him a moment, and I can see he’s struggling before he says, “I love you.”

  My lips part in complete shock, but my thoughts run rampant, silencing me.

  “I didn’t want to fall for you because I knew it would never work between us, but I fell anyway, and now . . . now it hurts to look at you. It hurts to be around you because I want more than that.”

  “Luca—”

  “I already know what you’re going to say. I already know I’m no good, which is why I’ve never told you. I’ve been fighting it for a while now.”

  “Fighting what?”

  “To not give in to what I’ve been feeling for you. To not touch you in ways I never have. To not kiss you when I hear you crying, because I want to.”

  His hand comes straight to my cheek and slides back into my hair. A touch that’s too tender for him.

  “I know better than to ever cross that line with you. I care too much, and I know I would probably wind up hurting you.”

  My heart softens, and I can’t deny the jealousy I felt when I found out he slept with Olivia. And even though he’s making his confessions, I’m too terrified to make my own. To admit that I might be feeling more than what I should for him.

  While he’s completely wrong about him not being good enough, he’s right when he says that he would most likely wind up hurting me, and I can’t risk hurting any more than what I already am. The pain I carry from losing my parents is a pain I wouldn’t wish on anyone, but as much as I want to protect myself, I want to protect him too. It isn’t easy seeing Luca like this. Distraught to the point he had to drink himself into being honest with me.

  “I want you to get everything this world took from you, and I want to be the guy who gives it to you. I just don’t know if I could ever be faithful.”

  And I fear that too.

  “You deserve so much more than what I am, but it’s becoming impossible to keep this all buried.”

  His hand falls away, and the loss of his touch chips at my heart. I want to tell him something—anything—because I know it took a lot for him to tell me all of this, but I’m so confused. God, I’m confused about everything in my life. I’ve been drowning for what seems like an eternity with nothing to grab on to.

  If I were being honest, there’ve been moments when I just wanted to grab on to Luca. Everything I know about him suggests that he might just be the only one strong enough to pull me out of this madness. Then his flaws remind me of why I can’t go there. Why I can’t lean on him the way I crave to. More than anything, I fear losing him, losing my only real friend.

  How do I ignore that pang of jealousy from this morning though?

  What do I do with that?

  Where does it go?

  Taking a leap of faith, I give him what he deserves. “I was mad at you this morning.”

  “You mean disappointed?”

  Shaking my head, I give him what I want to hide, because that’s what I’m good at—hiding. “No. I was mad.”

  The lines in his forehead deepen, and I dig further, giving him more when it feels so foreign to me. It worries me because I should be doing everything to protect myself, instead I’m doing the opposite. I’m exposing myself, opening up in a way I’m not sure I should, but I do it anyway.

  “I was jealous.”

  “Jealous?”

  Bashfully, I nod.

  “You have no reason to be jealous. You don’t want what I give those girls.” He moves in closer, taking my now jittery hand. “They only get the worst of me. The parts I hate.”

  Squeezing my fingers around his hand, I hesitantly murmur, “This scares me.”

  “What does?”

  “This,” I stress.

  He tugs my hand and pulls me into his arms, hugging me. “It scares me too.”

  My arms tighten around him, and no other words are spoken as we hold each other in a cloud of fear and confusion. Luca is my best friend, and I doubt I am willing to risk losing him just because I’ve had moments where thoughts of wanting more with him have crept in.

  That thought is chased by another.

  What if I’ve spent so much time despising his crude behavior with women as a way of convincing myself that he’s all wrong for me, like a shield to protect against the inevitable. In turn, I could’ve been focusing on all the great qualities about him, the million reasons to adore him.

  Reasons that far outweigh this one negative.

  But, just like him, I’ve never been in love.

  I’ve never committed myself to anyone.

  I’ve never even considered opening myself up to having something like that in my life.

  I’m not even sure I can.

  In this moment, all we do is hold on to each other as I try to keep myself together, because what the hell are we doing? I’m not even sure I want to go down this road with him—or with anyone, for that matter.

  After a while, we trade the couch for the bed, and even though we’ve spent a few nights sleeping next to each other, tonight feels like the first.

  Despite having slept the whole day away, I’m eventually able to fall asleep in his arms.

  As always, the morning comes all too soon. The ringing of my cell phone from the other room pulls me from my dream, and as I begin to rise, my movement stirs Luca. Slipping out of bed, I shiver against the chill in the air as I make my way to my room. When I see I have a missed call from Valley Crest, I quickly call back.

  “Valley Crest. How may I help you?”

  “Hi, this is Emma Ashford. Someone just called me.”

  “Just one moment.”