Milo:

When my eyes flutter open, I'm surrounded by unfamiliarity. The room is blindingly bright, illuminated by an excess of sunlight pouring through windows that stretch nearly floor to ceiling. The bed I'm lying in is far too spacious- king-sized, maybe larger -its plush covers swallowing me whole. Disoriented, I glance down at my bare body. The fog of sleep finally lifts, and I remember where I am. Ava's room. Ava's bed.

Ava herself is perched at the edge, her head cradled in her hands as she lets out a low, pained groan. She dry heaves once, twice, then flops back down with another pitiful sound. I roll over, shifting closer, draping an arm over her slender frame and pulling her tiny form snugly against mine.

She stiffens under my touch as if she'd forgotten I was here, her body going rigid before she suddenly twists around in my arms. Her big brown eyes widen as she takes in the sight of me- of both of us, naked in her bed. There's a flicker of something in her gaze: confusion, regret, maybe even fear. Last night was... incredible. But seeing her like this now, so distant and lost, the memory feels almost tainted.

"Morning," I murmur, gently pushing the frizz of baby hairs that crown her face away. Ava continues to stare at me like I'm an intruder, and I can't help the slow frown that spreads across my face. "What's the matter? You look like you've seen a ghost."

It takes her a moment to respond, to collect herself, but when she does, she wiggles out of my embrace with a guarded stiffness. I swallow the knot of disappointment that forms in my throat and prop myself up on an elbow, watching as she stumbles towards the walk-in closet, her hands feebly clutching at her chest in a vain attempt at modesty. She re-emerges a moment later, wrapped tightly in a robe, her once-messy pigtails now pulled loose. Her blonde hair cascades down her back in soft waves, the ends tangled from sleep.

She returns to the bed but keeps her distance, settling on the edge with her shoulders hunched as if she's trying to disappear. What the fuck? Does she not remember last night? I mean, with the amount she drank, it's not impossible...

"Hey," I say softly, though there's an edge of hurt in my voice. I scoot closer to her, gently running a finger down her arm. When she flinches at the contact, I know something's not right. I slide off the bed, keeping a blanket wrapped around my nude lower half. I stand in front of her so she has no choice but to look at me. "Why are you being so distant right now? Do... Do you remember what happened last night?"

The silence is thick and suffocating, but after what feels like an eternity, she finally nods. "Yeah," she replies, her voice raw and husky, a shadow of the sound that screamed my name all night. She glances up at me fleetingly before her gaze drops back to the floor, like she can't bear to hold eye contact.

"So... what's the problem?" I ask, trying to choke down the defensive in my voice. "Did I do something wrong? Uh, I know aftercare is really important, do you want to-?"

"No," Ava says suddenly, standing from the bed like she can't get away fast enough. She shimmies past me, sitting down at the desk on the other side of the room. Her hands shoot up to rub her face, her breathing slightly shaky as she continues. "Look, I... I just need some time. To figure out, uh, stuff."

I laugh in disbelief, the sound cold and humorless. "Figure stuff out?" I echo, shaking my head. The disappointment in my stomach has grown stronger, more akin to anger, and I walk towards Ava again, pointing an accusatory finger at her. "You throw yourself at me last night, beg me to fuck you, and you have to figure stuff out?"

Ava's jaw tightens, but she still won't look up. Her fingers toy nervously with the robe's tie, twisting and untwisting the fabric. She opens her mouth, like she wants to say something, but then her lips press into a thin line, and she simply shakes her head.

"So that's it, huh?" I ask with a bitter laugh. The realization hits hard, and suddenly I'm painfully aware of my own nakedness. Anger thrums hotly through my veins as I scramble to collect my clothes, tugging them on with jerky, frantic motions. "I'm just another one of your boy toys? Another tally added to your list of guys you've fucked?"

"Milo, that's not-" she starts, but I cut her off with a raised hand. I don't want to hear it. How dare she? How dare she beg me to fuck her- how dare she take my virginity, just to throw me out like yesterday's trash afterwards? Once I'm dressed, I yank the bedroom door open and slip out. It takes everything in me not to slam it shut behind me. Instead, I pull it closed quietly, my hands trembling, every muscle coiled tight with barely suppressed rage.

I round the corner and nearly bump into Lexi. Her eyes widen in surprise before narrowing into a suspicious squint. There's an odd look on her face, almost like... disapproval? What kind of weird Twilight Zone did I walk into?

"Morning," she drawls, the makeup from the night before still on but much more smudged. Her eyes take in my disheveled appearance, and she kisses her teeth. "Have a fun night?"

Heat rushes to my face, and I avert my gaze. "Can you just show me to the door?" I mutter after a moment of fumbling for words. "Please."

When I look back up, the curiosity etched into Lexi's face sharpens, her lips pressed into a thin, disapproving line. Her brows knit together, casting a shadow over her gaze. "Where's Ava?" she asks, the words edged with accusation, like she's already decided I'm guilty of something.

My shoulders lift in a weak shrug, the motion stiff and uncertain. I can't bring myself to meet her eyes again- they're too intense, boring holes into me. "In her room," I mutter softly, each word strained, the anger from before coiling tight in my throat again. I swallow hard, forcing it back. "Uh, thanks for having me at the party. I'd really like to leave now..."

Lexi's gaze lingers on me for a beat longer, the hostility in her expression softening into something closer to sympathy. The shift makes me feel even smaller. She turns on her heel and starts down the hallway, glancing back once to make sure I'm following. I trail behind her, head bowed low, my steps heavy with humiliation. It's a pathetic, long walk of shame, every click of my shoes against the polished floor reminding me of how unwelcome I am here.

As we pass Ava's room, my ears prick at the sound of faint, muffled sobs coming from behind the closed door. A pang of something- anger, sadness, maybe even guilt -flashes through me, but I shake it off. I don't care. I can't care. What could she possibly be crying about? She's the one who used me, discarded me like I was nothing.

We weave through what feels like an endless maze of pristine hallways, every corner blurring into the next, until we finally emerge in the front foyer. Lexi reaches for the front door but hesitates, turning to look at me over her shoulder. There's a trace of understanding in her eyes now, something gentle and knowing that makes my skin crawl.

"She kicked you out, huh?" she asks quietly, like she's sharing a secret, or maybe confirming a suspicion she's long held.

My throat tightens, the words lodged there refusing to come out. I can't bring myself to respond, so I just purse my lips and glance away, shame scorching my face. After a long pause, I manage a stiff nod, then murmur a half-hearted, "Thank you," before stumbling out the door.

The cool morning air hits me like a slap, the wind sharp and bracing against my heated skin. I make my way to my car in a daze, each step heavier than the last. My mind churns, thoughts tangled and messy. I thought we were different- I thought I was different.

What a fool I am, to think I could have been an exception, an outlier in her endless cycle of flings. But I'm not. I'm just another name to add to her list, another cog in the machine she's built around herself. Another casualty of whatever game she's playing.

The realization tastes bitter, like bile rising in the back of my throat. I take a deep breath, the cold air burning my lungs as I unlock my truck and slide inside, gripping the steering wheel until my knuckles turn white. I stare blankly through the windshield, my thoughts swirling in a chaotic mess. Forcing down my emotions, I remind myself that she owes me nothing at the end of the day- no explanations, no apologies, no promises. No matter how much it stings.

I just thought...

My fingers tremble as they fumble through my pockets, searching for my vape pen. When I finally wrap my hand around it, I bring it to my lips, inhaling deeply. The vapor floods my lungs, the burn sharp and almost comforting. I take another hit, then another, until I feel the familiar head rush that numbs the dull ache in my chest.

By the time I get home, I've all but drained the cart, my mind a hazy blur and my body disconnected from the world around me. I trudge inside on autopilot, my legs carrying me to the bathroom. The overhead light flickers softly as I swing open the cabinet door, my gaze falling on the small drawer where my razor lies, waiting. ***

I hesitate, fingers hovering over the handle. Then, with a shaky exhale, I give in. The cold metal feels heavy and familiar in my hand, a dark comfort. I press it to my skin, and the sharp sting bites at me, tiny red lines blooming in its wake. Tears blur my vision as I trace a few more shallow cuts along my forearm, barely breaking the surface. It's not deep enough to scar, not deep enough to be serious- just enough to feel something other than this twisted mess of betrayal and self-loathing.

As I watch the thin lines well up, I think of Ava's ghostly touch. Her lips against my skin last night, so soft and tentative, like she was afraid to hurt me. I remember the way she looked at me- like I wasn't broken, like I didn't need to hide or be ashamed. She almost made me believe that I didn't have to do this anymore, that I could stop.

But it was all a lie. A ploy to get in my pants. And I fell for it like an idiot.

A choked laugh escapes me, bitter and humorless. I can't believe I let myself be fooled by her dumb charm. My hand trembles as I set the razor back down, staring at the cuts until my vision blurs again. I feel like I'm drowning, caught between the urge to cry and the desire to scream.

***The pain isn't enough to distract me for long, though. Tomorrow, we have to present our project together, and while the poster board is ready, we haven't even discussed what we're going to say. I mean, we could just read off the bullet points, but something tells me Mr. Warren isn't going to approve of that lazy approach.

You've got me fucked up, though, if you think I'm going to call Ava and tell her we need to get our shit together. Oh, no. I'll handle it on my own, make sure I've got my part down. Leave her up there floundering without a script.

Milo: One, Ava: Zero.

I rinse the cuts clean and wrap a towel around my arm, my thoughts finally settling. The pain dulls to a faint throb, and the bleeding has already slowed to a sluggish crawl. I feel lighter- empty, but lighter. It's enough to get me through tonight. Enough to get me through until I have to face her again.

Ava:

The bedroom door creaks open slowly, but I don't bother to lift my head. My face stays buried in my hands, tears seeping through my fingers and pooling in my palms. I feel the mattress dip beside me, and a pair of familiar arms wrap around my shaking shoulders, pulling me close. Lexi's scent floods my senses, stirring something warm and familiar inside me, but it's not enough to extinguish the turmoil churning within.

"What happened?" Her voice is gentle, barely a murmur against the backdrop of my broken sobs. I lean into her, shifting my face to her shoulder as my own arms snake around her waist. She strokes my hair softly, murmuring sweet reassurances. "It's okay, honey... you're okay."

The words catch in my throat, coming out in choked, hiccupping gasps. "I don't know why I did that..." My chest tightens, and I crumble back into tears, my whole body trembling against her steady presence. Fucking Pisces, we're too emotional.

Lexi sighs, her breath warm against my forehead as she lays us back on the bed, holding me tighter. "You don't know why you slept with him, or why you kicked him out?" She asks gently. There's no judgment in her tone, but I can feel the I told you so lingering in the air, just waiting to drop.

Despite the comfort of Lexi's embrace- her endless patience, her steady heartbeat beneath my cheek -the gaping hole inside me only seems to widen. A gnawing ache that spreads through my chest, hollowing me out. I long for something... though I know it's probably more of a someone.

"I don't know," I choke out, my throat raw and sore from the sobs tearing their way out of me. "I... I mean, last night is hard to remember, but..."

A flush of heat rises to my cheeks at the scattered, blurry fragments of last night. Milo's hands, the way they felt on my skin, the way his body moved against mine... It's all seared into my mind, even if some details remain hazy. He wasn't experienced- God, he was so not experienced -but still, his passion left me longing for me. I don't know if it's because we're friends- or were friends -but it was different. Incredible. And despite everything, I find myself yearning for it again. For him.

But I'm terrified.

What if I fall in love with him? What if he leaves me like everyone else? What if he realizes just how fucked up I really am? I mean... he probably already does, considering what he said before he left.

Lexi sighs again, gently pulling me back from the spiral of my thoughts. "I'm not gonna say it," she murmurs, pausing for effect. "But you know what I want to say."

Typical Lexi. This bitch can't help herself.

"But this isn't a Jake situation," she continues, voice unwavering. "He's not just going to find another girl. I mean... he looked like he's never even had a girlfriend before, let alone touched a woman."

A bitter laugh escapes my lips, sharp and jagged. I shake my head violently. "No, I was his first time," I spit out, the words tasting like poison. Guilt clenches around my heart, squeezing until all I can feel is the bitter aftertaste of regret.

Lexi lets out a low whistle, a sharp intake of breath punctuating the silence. "Man," she murmurs, and I can see the struggle on her face, the weight of unspoken words lingering in the air. "That... makes things a little more tricky for sure."

"I hate myself," I groan, forcing myself to untangle from her comforting embrace to sit up. The room feels stifling, the fabric of my robe clinging to me like a suffocating shroud. "I can't... God, I messed up, didn't I?"

She doesn't respond right away, her eyes heavy with concern as they hold mine. "Ava... You... I mean, usually when you do this to a guy and he reacts negatively, you eat that up. But right now-"

I cut her off with another frustrated groan, the weight of her words settling heavily in my chest. She's right, and it stings. I've never had a problem after I cut off a guy. As awful as it sounds, I usually revel in their misery, delighting in how desperately they want me back. But Milo doesn't seem like that kind of guy. He seems like the type of guy to just end it all.

His wrists flash before my eyes, stark and scarred, and a chill runs through me. Oh, God, I did this to a basically suicidal man. A feeling of dread creeps in, wrapping around me like a thick fog. Hell has a particularly hot room waiting for me; I can feel it in my bones. I can almost picture the drawing Milo is doing of me now- one that will be far less delicate than last time, more in touch with how I really am.

Lexi's voice cuts through my spiraling self-loathing, her eyes reflecting a sad sympathy that pierces me. "I'm sorry," she says softly, but those two words strike deeper than anything else she could have uttered.

My eyes brim with tears once more, my shoulders trembling with silent sobs. There's no way I'm undoing this mess. It feels like I'm sinking into a pit with no escape, the walls closing in around me.

We stay like this for a long time, rotting in bed until I finally drag myself off the mattress, peeling my body away to wash off yesterday's lingering shame. The shower scalds me in a way that feels almost satisfying, burning away the sensation of Milo's hands on my skin, the sting of his words. It burns away the realization that maybe my father was never the bad guy- my mom was.

God, it's been a week since I last spoke to her. Not even a single call to check on me. I'm not an idiot- I'm sure Lexi's mom is in touch with her. Mine's a bad mom, not a fucking monster.

After getting out of the shower, I wrap my hair in a towel and dial Mom's number, setting it to speaker. It rings and rings, just long enough for me to think it'll go to voicemail, when she finally picks up.

"Hello?" she answers casually, like I just saw her this morning.

Anger flares up in my chest, but I push it back down, taking a shaky breath. "Hello, Mother," I manage through clenched teeth, biting my lip. There's clattering in the background, and a voice- definitely a man's voice. "Where are you right now?"

"Home," she replies, giggling at whoever's with her before shushing them playfully.

I don't know any man who's ever stepped foot in our house, other than the ones I snuck in. Mom hasn't dated anyone since the divorce, but with her recent confession, maybe she feels like she finally can.

"Who are you with?" I press, straining to catch any clues. "Are you... on a date?"

Mom giggles again, and I hear the unmistakable sound of lips meeting. The thought of it makes me want to gag. "I... kind of. My boyfriend's moving in next week, so..."

Boyfriend?! I leave for a week, and she gets a boyfriend- and he's moving in? I might as well start paying the Graysons' rent, because there's no way I'm going back to that house. It hasn't felt like a home since Dad left. Just a shell of what it once was- cold, gray, dismal. But now, with an imposter settling in, it's nothing but a stranger's house. Definitely not mine.

"You drop a bomb of a confession on me, don't reach out when I leave, and already have someone else moving in?" I ask incredulously, my fingers trembling as I struggle to keep the towel wrapped around my body. How dare she? How dare she lie to me all these years, blame me for her own failures, and then just move on like nothing happened? Like I haven't spent years in therapy trying to undo the damage she did.

I take it back- she is a monster.

"Ava," she says gently, and there's a new lilt to her voice, a lightness that's never been there before. It's because I'm not there. She can finally stop pretending with her old life, start fresh. "I love you, honey. I always will. But you're eighteen now. Don't you think it's time to move out?"

A bitter laugh escapes me, eyes squeezing shut as I try to keep it together. This is so not my fucking day. "You're a piece of shit," I say without thinking, the words spilling out too fast for my filter to catch them. "You're a terrible person, and an even worse mother. You ruined my life- ruined my relationship with my father because you're so fucking selfish. And now you just get to move on? Pretend like none of it happened?"

There's a pause on the other end, a stretch of silence that tells me she's probably muted me. The severity of my words settles in, and I swallow hard, feeling that familiar weight of guilt pressing down on my chest. "Look, I'm sorry-" I start, but she cuts me off sharply.

"Come collect your stuff by next week," she says in a flat, even tone, the lightness gone. I can hear her idiot boyfriend mumbling something to her in the background. "If you don't, I'm going to throw it in the middle of the road."

Click.

I sit there, stunned, staring at my phone like it's some foreign object. Maybe I was too harsh, but so is her replacing me like this. My heart splinters further- if it's even possible to break more than it already has. There's no putting it back together this time.

My hands move numbly, tugging clothes over my body in a daze as my mom's voice echoes relentlessly in my head, looping over and over like a broken record I can't shut off. I know Lexi and her family have always been more than accommodating, but I've never stayed with them for more than a few months at a time. How do I ask for a permanent place here? Can I even ask them for that?

I don't even realize I'm back in my bedroom until I feel the familiar softness of the mattress beneath me. Lexi's perched on the sofa across from it, eyes trained blankly on the TV. She doesn't say anything, just studies the look on my face, reading me effortlessly.

"Didn't help at all?" She asks softly, muting the TV as she slides off the sofa and crawls into bed beside me.

"Mom's officially kicked me out," I say flatly, sluggishly turning my head to look at her. My voice sounds distant, hollow, like it's coming from somewhere far away. "She's got a boyfriend. He's moved in. Told me to get my stuff in a week, or she'll throw it in the road."

Lexi's eyes widen, her mouth falling open as she processes my words. "What a cunt," she mutters, shaking her head in disbelief. "Don't worry. We'll get your stuff. You can really make this room yours now!"

The weight of her words crashes over me, and I throw myself at her without thinking, wrapping my arms around her so tight she might pop. She lets out a strained laugh, practically wheezing from the force of it.

"What, did you think I'd let you go homeless?" Lexi teases, grinning despite the pressure of my embrace. "You're my best friend, silly. And, apparently, my parent's favorite now."

"I've always been the favorite," I tease, rolling myself on top of her. She giggles and wraps her arms around my waist. "Thank you. I don't know what I would do without you, or your family. I love you so much."

Lexi smiles gently, stroking my cheek for a half second before leaning her head back, closing her eyes. "How soon is too soon to talk about Milo?" She asks after a beat of silence, still holding me tightly to her body.

I groan, burying my face in her neck. "It's always too soon," I admit, though I know I need to face this head on. We have a project to present together tomorrow. And neither of us are prepared. Fuck it, I'll just read off the board. Mr. Warren, eat your heart out.

"You should apologize," she prods, running a gentle hand up and down my back. "It's the least you owe him. I mean, he'll probably never want to speak to you again, if he's anything like the other guys."

I roll off her, turning onto my side defensively, my heart pounding as I confront this uncomfortable truth. "There was that time when Eli came back-"

"And then you fucked, and then you ghosted him again," Lexi reminds, rolling over with me so we're spooning. "And then remind me what happened?" A wave of shame floods my face, and I grumble incoherently, my embarrassment palpable in the air between us.

With a huff, I flip in her arms, annoyance simmering beneath my skin. "He egged my house," I spit, glaring at her. "I get it, Lexi, I don't have the best past with guys. But hey, at least I've slept with a guy. How's Brad, by the way?"

Lexi blushes slightly, looking down. "I want to take it slow," she responds, her voice guarded. "We were supposed to a couple times, but... I chickened out. I don't know, sex isn't necessary for me like it is you."

Her words stab like daggers through my chest, leaving a raw ache behind, the sting of comparison sharp and unwelcome. I don't understand why we're arguing right now, and as Lexi is the only person truly in my corner, I take a deep breath to steady myself. "Why are we fighting?" I ask gently, placing a hand on her shoulder, hoping to bridge the widening gap between us. "Look, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have brought up your sex life. That's my bad."

My best friend breathes in deeply, exhaling slowly as she processes my apology. "I'm sorry too. I shouldn't have called you a whore," she says, and when I furrow my brows in surprise, she quickly slaps a hand over her mouth, her eyes wide. "Oh, maybe that was just in my head."

I laugh, shoving her playfully despite the slight twinge in my stomach from the unwanted truth. "Fuck you," I grumble, crossing my arms over my chest in mock annoyance. "Okay, yeah, I should probably talk to Milo. But he's not going to just pick up the phone. And I don't want to go back to his house without a gun, I think."

I shudder at the memory of the creepy guys lurking outside and Milo's odd dream of me getting snatched away. "We have that project to present tomorrow... Maybe I'll try to talk to him while the other people are presenting."

"I mean, not when I would do it, but hey, whatever works." Lexi chuckles softly, sitting up and stretching, letting out a low, long groan that echoes in the quiet room. "Alright, I'm tired of rotting in bed. Want to go hit the courts? Tennis usually makes you competitive, probably a good distraction."

God, I wish I could be rich like her.

A distraction could be a great idea, though I don't know how much I can actually get my mind off of this. This isn't like any other guys I've ever fucked and dumped- there's this aching in my chest, this pit in my stomach I can't shake.

Maybe it's just because Milo saved my ass a few times. I mean, nothing Lexi hasn't done. So why is it so different? My cheeks burn a soft pink as we change into our tennis attire, the ghostly touch of Milo's hands exploring my body nearly taking my breath away. Even now, I can still feel him- the way his fingertips brushed over my shoulder blades, tentative and nervous, like he was afraid I'd disappear if he held on too tightly. Or the way he'd whispered my name, voice barely a breath, right before everything blurred into a haze of heat and softness and that dizzying sensation of falling.

I'm falling again. But this time, it's into a dark, murky pool of emotions I can't sort out.

I shake my head, snapping the strap of my sports bra in place, but the pain in my chest only grows sharper. The past guys were easy to walk away from. Most of them were arrogant pricks who thought sleeping with me was some sort of prize they'd earned. They were cocky and full of themselves, not like Milo, with his hesitant smile and those dark eyes that seemed to bore into my soul. They never looked at me like he did, never touched me like they were trying to memorize every inch of my skin.

Milo made it feel... different. Real. Too real.

The locker room is quiet, save for the rustling of fabric and how loud my thoughts are. I avoid Lexi's eyes as I pull on my sneakers, my mind spinning. I'd practically begged him to sleep with me. To feel wanted, I'd told myself. But deep down, I know that's not it. Not really. It wasn't about control or power or proving I could have anyone I wanted. It was something else. Something I'm terrified to name.

And then I'd just... left him. His face, all flushed and hopeful, flashes behind my eyes, making me wince. I pushed him out. As if I could run away from the truth. From whatever it is that's clawing at my insides right now, making me feel like the world is closing in.

The memory of his expression- a mix of confusion and something else, something almost like hurt -keeps stabbing at me. God, I'm such a coward. And yet, the thought of facing him again is almost unbearable. I can't stand to see that look in his eyes, the one that makes me feel exposed and seen in a way I've only seen before in my therapist.

"Hey, you good?" Lexi's voice jolts me out of my thoughts. She's standing next to me now, hands on her hips, her gaze sharp. "You've been tying your laces for, like, five minutes."

I glance down, realizing I've been fumbling with the same knot over and over again. "Yeah, just... spacing out," I mutter, forcing a casual smile, though it feels tight and unnatural. I finally get the knot secured and straighten up, smoothing down the front of my tennis skirt.

Lexi narrows her eyes but doesn't press. "You've got that look again."

"What look?" I snap, a bit too defensively. Her knowing gaze only makes me want to shrink away.

"The 'I'm still thinking about Milo and I'm one second away from crashing out ' look." Her lips twitch into a smirk, but there's concern there, too. "You really like him, don't you?"

I swallow hard, my throat suddenly dry. The automatic denial- No, I don't, it's not like that -gets stuck somewhere between my chest and my mouth. What's the point of lying to her? To myself?

"Maybe," I whisper, the word barely audible, like admitting it might somehow make it more real. Lexi raises a brow, waiting for more, but I can't even begin to unpack everything swirling inside me right now. The guilt, the longing, the fear of what happens next. So I change the subject, deflecting as per usual.

"Can we just... play? I thought this was meant to be a distraction." I brush past her, grabbing my racket and heading for the courts without looking back. If I don't keep moving, I might just break down all over again.

Lexi's footsteps follow me, and for a moment, I'm grateful she doesn't push. She usually knows when to back off, and right now, I need space. Space to figure out why the thought of Milo's touch sends shivers down my spine. Why the memory of his lips on mine keeps haunting me, long after it's over.

I take my spot on the court, gripping the racket so hard my knuckles turn white. With each swing, I try to force the thoughts out of my head, each thwack of the ball against the strings a desperate attempt to erase the ghost of his hands, the taste of his tongue, the softness in his voice. But it's no use. No matter how fast I run or how hard I hit, Milo's still there, tangled up in every thought and every breath, and it's driving me insane.

I hate that I want to text him, to tell him I'm sorry, to explain why I pushed him away. I hate that I'm afraid he'll just move on and forget me like I've forgotten so many others. But what if he doesn't? What if he really is different, and I have to figure out what that means? It's like I'm balancing on the edge of something unfamiliar, something I'm not sure I want to fall into.

The ball bounces out of bounds, and I stop, leaning on my knees, panting. Sweat drips down my brow, but it does nothing to cool the simmering frustration inside me. I stare at the ground, willing myself to get a grip.

Truth is, I've never been good at dealing with this kind of thing. I've never wanted anything more than fleeting pleasure and control. I've never wanted someone to see more of me than what I chose to show.

Milo didn't push or expect anything. He stayed, even after I was a total bitch to him. He looked at me like he saw something beyond the surface. And that's the part I don't know what to do with- because it's unfamiliar and unsettling, but... not entirely unwanted.

I shut my eyes, exhaling slowly. I  just need more time to figure out what I really want. Because if I rush back to him now, it'll be for all the wrong reasons. And the last thing I want is to mess up whatever this is before I even know what it could be.

So for now, I'll keep my distance, try to sort through the mess in my head. But I can't help it if he still lingers there, tangled up in thoughts I wish weren't there.