She painfully jerks my neck toward her and bruises my lips with her kiss. I’m gone. I’m lost, devoured by her, owned.

  She pulls back suddenly. “So, what happened with her?”

  “Who?” I play dumb.

  Chloe crawls off my lap and lays down next to me. My head hits the pillow and I instantly grab her hand and squeeze it, staring up at the ceiling, wishing there were those cheesy plastic stars I could wish on.

  All I see is white.

  I wish I was the type of person who could look up and go wow an empty canvas, instead I look up and see nothing.

  Just nothing.

  If anyone asked me, I’d lie and say I saw an incredible future, visions, dreams, instead I just see nothingness and I wonder if my trauma led me to this place. I wonder what it’s like to just be able to draw on that canvas, to create your own path, your own future.

  I won’t ever know.

  So I keep my lies to myself.

  I keep my secrets inside.

  I keep things between my lips that are bursting to be told.

  And I wait for her answer.

  “Her,” she says like I should know, then turns to me, her hair tangling with the pillow. She grabs the blue blanket on my bed and holds it tight, almost twisting it between her fingers. “MB, the girl with Ambrose. Was she the one who broke your heart?”

  I hesitate, then say, “I think I need something stronger than Twizzlers for this.”

  “Probably.” She releases the blanket and grabs my hand, pulling me on top of her easily. “Are you over her?”

  I’m worried that if I hesitate she’ll leave, just like I’m worried if I answer too soon, she’ll think I’m lying when really I’m where I’m supposed to be. “I’m over her.” I speak out. “In the romantic way you’re thinking, but she’s still close to here.” I hold Chloe’s hand to my chest and press it hard. “And she’ll always be a close friend, so if that means you’re uncomfortable, then… I’m sorry. I’m really, really sorry, but I don’t abandon friends, and even though she’s with my best friend, I refuse to let either of them go.”

  “Loyalty.” Chloe nods, pressing her hand even harder against my chest. “Who knew guys still had that?”

  “Well, it could be because I’m an idiot, but, I will always be by their side even if I was the one who lost the girl, even if I was the knight that came too late, even if I was the lesser person, or even if I just wasn’t the right one. Hell, it could have even been my fault, but life is life and right now I’m trying hard to find what I want and right now in this moment I really want to kiss you and ignore the fact that my past has semi tried to jump up into my present, so can I? Can I just kiss you?”

  Her eyes well with tears. She nods her head, her skin is smooth as I cup her cheeks, running my thumbs down to her lips like I’m already kissing her. Her skin is perfect, her lips plump and pink, I want to bite them. I’m feeling both aggressive and soft, what the hell is wrong with me?

  I lean down the minute her chin knocks mine. So soft and sweet, her lips part and suddenly my tongue massages hers as our mouths meet, she moves her hips, I settle down on her body and forget my own name, she feels so good, too good.

  Her hands reach for my hair, her nails dig into my head and draw down until she’s at my neck, keeping me pinned against her even though I’m the one on top.

  All I keep thinking is, what a beautiful smile.

  She’s all wonder and fire, she’s refreshing and new, she’s dare I say happy? And I want to think it’s for me.

  “Listen,” She licks her pink swollen bottom lip. “Can we do this again? I’m asking for a redo from the other day.”

  I frown. “We can, but why?”

  “Because” —her eyes flicker from mine—“I just want to be awake for this one, I want to be yours, just yours.” Her eyes suddenly swell, filling with tears, one slowly slides down her cheek. “I know it’s weird, but please?”

  I answer honestly. “I’ve known you two days and still, I think I’d give you the world, damn this whole insta love situation people always give people shit about, if you want a do over, that’s what I’ll do even if you hate me later, even if you leave me, aren’t we all allowed our moments?”

  Another tear slides down her cheek, I catch it with my finger and bring my tongue to it, tasting it. “Bitter.”

  “Always,” she says instantly. “Especially now.”

  What does that even mean?

  “But.” She continues. “You’re mine, for now, right?”

  “Well, might need to do a character interview later to make sure we’re compatible, do a few tests and—“

  She pulls me down for another kiss and I’m done. I reach for the bottom of her shirt, then jerk it off her head. I waste no time in undoing her bra or reaching for her jean shorts and tugging them down with her underwear. I am not a lazy lover, that’s for sure.

  She moans into my mouth. Yup, this is happening.

  I have no condom, though.

  I try to pull away to tell her that, when she shoves my pants down and grips me, shit, oh shit.

  I nearly pass out. She’s aggressive, more aggressive than before, maybe because we’re familiar with each other?

  I give into it.

  Into her grip, into her guidance, into the way she rubs my tip with her thumb, the way she tries to shove me inside her. I have no clue what’s going on other than we’re having sex and it’s unprotected and I want to say something. Later, I know I’ll regret this.

  I know.

  I just know.

  But it feels so good.

  I don’t say stop.

  I don’t pause anything.

  I give in, because I like her, because I think she might be my person.

  So when I’m sinking between her thighs and slowing my movements and kissing her, all I think about is how wonderful it’s going to be—to hopefully keep this angel forever, not realizing—I might be sleeping with the devil—no that’s not even right. Not the devil… my sadness, my utter destruction. All because I fell in more ways than one .

  Chapter Twelve

  Chloe

  He feels amazing.

  I feel amazing.

  I try not to overthink it because he was mine first, not hers, she stole him, she stole a moment and now he’s mine again, he never has to know, right?

  His hips move perfectly, the way he holds mine with both hands then kisses me slowly is like a drug, one I want to be on for an eternity. I feel both safe and screwed which is a weird thing to even think about as he slowly thrusts deeper and deeper, my legs shake a bit while I cling to his neck and back with my hands, his sweat presses through my fingertips as he continues to kiss my neck. I wipe away everything he did with my sister and know he’s mine, mine. No way did he act this way with her, this precious.

  His mouth opens against my collarbone, biting down before he makes his way back up to my lips, capturing them with heat and tongue. Yes. This was what I wanted, what I was waiting for. His muscles flex beneath my fingertips, I grip harder and pull him closer. God, he’s so deep it almost hurts.

  He pulls back, his expression unreadable as he looks down at me, brows furrowing. “This is different.”

  “What?” I almost moan it. I wonder why I can’t keep any emotion in when I’m with him, why I feel weak but brave at the same time.

  “Better.” He leans down, his mouth latches onto mine again before answering. “So good. I just, damn…” He makes a noise in the back of his throat. “I’m too close, Chloe, I’m so sorry.”

  “Go.” It’s all I have to say when my entire body spasms and he collapses on top of me.

  Out of breath, he just lays there, suffocating me until he leans up on his elbows and looks down at me and grins. “Where did you come from again?”

  “A canoe.” I laugh. “And where did you come from again?”

  He presses a kiss to my lips. “The sky.”

  “You were falling.”

  “Maybe,” he kisses me again and again, three times across the mouth. “I was destined to fall.”

  I say nothing.

  But the guilt of the knowledge builds until I want to puke.

  Instead, I hold him close like that’s going to make things better.

  And I hope that it actually will.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Quinn

  It was different.

  It was more emotional, more perfect if I can even say that word anymore because she literally here in my arms feels so right, from her soft skin to the way that she fits right next to my body. I want to tell her not to go home, to stay in my room and watch movies forever.

  Creepy, yes, but I’m borderline obsessed with this girl. Maybe that’s what happens when you find your person and someone who makes you smile rather than cry. I’m so damn tired of being disappointed and upset over a relationship, hell I was ready to quit even dating before I fell into her lap, but now I have hope that the universe isn’t completely against me.

  I fall back against the bed, she’s quiet next to me, I don’t have the energy to move and I honestly don’t want to. My grip on her is stronger than it should be, tighter.

  All I keep thinking is, finally, finally something for me, someone for me, is that so wrong? To be excited that I have a person in my arms I don’t have to fight someone else for? Someone I genuinely like… could potentially love.

  Life is weird.

  She turns in my arms and looks up at me. “Was that, like, I mean… okay for you?”

  I almost laugh then realize she’s dead serious and quickly sober and frown over at her in shock, because how could it not be amazing again? “What do you mean, was it okay? It was incredible, just like last time.”

  Her face falls as if it wasn’t a compliment. “Oh, good.”

  I cup her cheeks with my hands. “That’s your response, oh good?”

  She grins up at me, suddenly changing her posture. “Sorry, apparently you exhausted me with your sexual prowess.”

  “As one does.”

  “As one does.” She agrees with a wider smile, giving me a toothy grin that has me wanting to kiss her all over again, shit she’s cute. I capture her lips and pull her on top of me. “I meant actually watch a movie, you know, not this… I’d be happy just to lie next to you.”

  She rests her arms on my chest, folded against it, our skin is sticky from sweat, the smell of sex fills the air but I can’t find myself to move from this moment. Her eyes search mine. “Do you really mean that?”

  “I’m easy to please.” I put my hands behind my head. “I mean, sex is great, but if you wanted to binge watch Lord of the Rings, I’d be okay with that too.”

  “Maybe that’s why I like you.”

  “YOU SHALL NOT PASS!” I yell like a total nerd.

  She smacks me on the chest. “Yeah, okay Gandalf.”

  I grab her hand. “See? And that’s another reason I like you, you didn’t look at me like an idiot and actually know who Gandalf is.”

  “People don’t know Lord of the Rings? That’s just sad.”

  “Pathetic.” I nod. “A tragedy really.”

  “Does that make you Sam Wise? And me Frodo?”

  “Wait, why do you get to be Frodo?”

  She grins and rests her chin on my chest. “Because I want to have the power of the ring, but also because Sam never leaves his side, I kind of like the idea of that kind of loyalty.”

  I sigh. “I’ve never cheated, never will. Loyal to a fault.”

  Her eyes flicker away from mine, like I somehow made her nervous. “Good.”

  What did I say wrong?

  She starts to move away from me, but I pull her back down then frown. Her face is super flushed across the bridge of her nose and her cheeks. “Hey, you feeling okay?”

  She nods.

  “Okay, it’s just you have a small rash or swelling—“ I start to point when she scrambles away from me and basically dives off the bed in search of her clothes.

  “I actually…” She quickly puts on her clothes. “Forgot about something I have to do really quick.” She stumbles toward the door and pauses like she needs to catch her breath. “Thank you though, thank you!”

  “For the sex?”

  She looks over her shoulder. “For being you.”

  She’s gone in seconds.

  And I’m left wondering if I’m bad at sex or just offered her.

  I send her a quick text.

  Me

  Please tell me you really didn’t hate it.

  She doesn’t respond back for two hours.

  And when she does, it’s with a heart emoji plus a “I’ll tell you later.”

  Later comes sooner than I thought because when I open the front door, she’s standing there in completely different clothes with a smile on her face. “Aren’t you going to wish me Happy Birthday?”

  “Thought I already did?”

  Her attitude seemed more upbeat, different. “Well, let’s repeat that then.”

  “Huh?”

  She grabs me by the neck and pulls me in for a kiss that does not feel like the kisses we’ve been sharing today. I jerk away. “Are you feeling okay?”

  “It’s my birthday,” she says again. “Of course, plus I have you.”

  “Okay, Frodo.” I laugh.

  She doesn’t.

  What the Hell is going on?

  Her smile doesn’t reach her eyes.

  I drop her hand and take a step back. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  Her posture relaxes a bit. “Yeah, I just had something to do with my sister, but now I’m back.”

  “Okay.”

  “Okay.” She steps into the house. “Want to watch a movie?”

  It sounds lame but I just want to take that frown from her face and the fact that she’s still here tells me all I need to know.

  She wants a friend.

  I’m attracted.

  I want her.

  I feel weirdly needy and possessive.

  But at the end of the day, I can be a friend, I can be what she needs, at least that’s what I tell myself as I sit next to her. She’s a stranger but not, and while I always judged insta-love I kind of look at her and go, okay, I get it. I get it now.

  “Let’s gooooo.” I wrap an arm around her.

  It feels good.

  It feels like I’m finally healing from my past.

  Starting a new beginning feels like being set free, maybe all I needed was Seaside, maybe all I needed was her.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chloe

  We watched a movie.

  Everything was fine.

  Had you asked what the movie was about I might have just had to make it up. First off, he’s too hot, like literally, second, he kept rubbing my shoulder, hand, kissing my neck, but not in an aggressive way, basically he’s perfect and I don’t deserve him.

  I wanted to tell him, actually I almost told him a million times last night, but how do you even begin that conversation? My own sister despises me because of my illness, my family treats me like I’m going to die any minute when everything is under control—don’t even get me started on when I’m struggling.

  I’m glass.

  Officially glass.

  I just want to be steel.

  Is that so hard to ask for?

  The universe probably laughs every time I say that because there is no chance in hell I will ever be that, even though it’s what I wish for on a daily basis. My stomach kind of hurts, my anxiety is at an all-time high because of the secrets I’m keeping and I feel—funny, not like myself, which means I might be having an episode which again terrifies me. I don’t know him well enough to actually expose him to all of this.

  And it’s a lot, I know it’s a lot, I get it, trust me, I deal with it constantly, but the real shit part is that even my own parents really don’t get it, they work, they check in, they travel constantly, and then when they come home and see if I’ve had an episode you’d think that I had leprosy.

  One time I walked in to hear Sophie talking to my parents, it’s something I’ll never forget.

  “What if I catch it? We don’t know, it could be something else. I don’t want to die! What if the diagnosis is wrong, and she’s contagious? Not even that, but you guys spend so much time just worrying about her and working, I’m left here, maybe it would be easier, right? Easier to get sick.”

  She yelled the last part.

  I kept waiting by the kitchen, mouth dry, a clump of hair in my hand that I was crying over, pain everywhere, fear that I’d need a transplant, fear that I was somehow alienating everyone in my world because when they asked how I was doing all I wanted to say was, welp, not great, see exhibit A! But when you’re sick you’re not allowed it, I mean maybe once or twice, but after a while even your own family gets tired of talking about it, so you suppress, you try to get better and you tell them everything is fine when you’re dizzy, nauseated, when you puke up dinner, when your muscles ache, you force a smile because how dare you be sick and fucking show me.

  It’s the fear.

  I believe my last boyfriend said I was baggage and damaged and that I was making everything up even when my hair was falling out in my own hands, then he told his dad who then sat me down and told me that sometimes we manifest things.

  I got a little pat on my knee, and that was it. We broke up the next day and I almost ran to the store to build a voodoo doll to curse his entire family—especially after doctors did, in fact, diagnose me correctly.

  Ugh, people suck, and the worst part is that no matter how much they “love” or “care” they don’t get chronic illness, at least not in the way that makes sense. I could literally give my entire diagnosis, write a report, win a Nobel and I swear people would still look at me, blink, and go, well why don’t you just eat healthy and rest more, take your medicine, then manifest good thoughts?

  The amount of times I’ve been told to just do better or get better is insulting—especially from my own twin, who’s convinced I’m “sick” to get more attention.

  It steals every piece of joy and it steals the rest that I get in between those moments where I’m able to actually breath. I always heard or grew up hearing that twins could sense each other and that the bond they had was tighter than anything, but all she’s ever done well is sabotage.