"What?"

"No, no, no," I said, pushing myself up on his chest and looking down at him. "You're not telling her. I . . . This was a one time mistake."

Dallas's head fell back onto the pillow and he closed his eyes, sighing loudly. "What if I don't want it to be a one time mistake?" he asked and I rolled my eyes. "How come you get to decide everything when it comes to us?"

I pulled away from him completely and laid on my side, facing him. We stared at each other for a second and it felt like we were back in Florida, on our homemade King-sized bed, our sun kissed skin bare naked on stark white sheets, our lips swollen and bruised from endless kisses. The feeling gave me shivers.

"You said it yourself. You can't be openly gay—or bi, whatever—in law. You have a chance here to be happy, I promise you. I know it's fun but . . . Me? My shit? That's what's going to end us in the long run anyways," I said, a tear forming in the corner of my eye. "You can't fucking tell her, Dallas. I mean, for God's sake, who even knows you're bisexual besides whoever was at the beach house?"

Dallas met my eyes. "My dad."

Oh, wow.

"Your dad . . ? I thought he was—"

"Yeah, he's incarcerated. I try to visit him around the holidays," he said, his voice a bit nasally. Was he crying, too? "I told him about you."

I felt my eyes widen in surprise. He told his dad, who was in jail for murder, about me. "Was he cool about it?" I asked curiously.

Dallas cracked a smile, though it was only half lit. I might have ruined my chances at seeing his thousand watt smile in full power ever again. Curse my self sabotaging habits. Always taking the little things I loved and crushed it before my very eyes.

"He was very cool about it. I think you'd like him. You actually kind of remind me of him in a weird way," he said and reached up to touch my face. "I don't know what it is. You both have that dry sense of humor that never misses. He was always a bit of one for the dramatics, too."

"I'm dramatic?"

"Yes, Thomas. We've known this."

I scoffed just as his finger traced my bottom lip, cupping my cheek. "I'm not the one who showed up at my mom's house and gave me the choice of you kidnapping me or holding me hostage in my own home."

Dallas laughed. "Oh, please, like you weren't waiting for me to show up."

Yeah, I kinda was.

We went silent for a few minutes. I think the both of us were trying to figure out everything that's happened in the last forty-eight hours and everything that's going to happen for the rest of our lives. The stars were never aligned for us, that much was true. I couldn't see us working out outside of my idealistic fantasies. He just had too much potential to have to deal with me fucking it all up.

"So you're staying the night or do I get a choice?"

Dallas snorted, scooting closer so our bodies were pressed together. "Not this time. I'm staying."

—

I woke up to him leaving. He didn't wake me but I felt the bed move when he got up.

Deciding the goodbye was going to be too hard, I kept my eyes shut every time he looked in my direction, which was always. I listened from my bed while he pulled all of his clothes on, gathered his phone and wallet and keys, and slipped his shoes on. I smelled his scent, that beautiful leathery scent, as he neared closer.

And then I felt his lips on my hairline. "I love you," he whispered. Then he was gone.

I cried myself back to sleep, knowing that would be the last time I'd have him. I made him promise me before we fell asleep that he would keep this a secret. It took a lot of effort and some empty promises, but he agreed. It would be our dirty little secret. And it would never happen again.

Mom had coffee brewing when I woke up the second time. My eyes were red-rimmed and my hair was a rat's nest when I looked in the bathroom mirror. There was a hickey on my collarbone and I swear to god there was a bite mark on my thigh.

"I'm not gonna ask," Mom said as I sat down.

"Good," I said, sipping my coffee.

She was staring at me expectantly. I tried to ignore it, but she was like a hawk. We sat there nonverbally the whole time and I almost made it through the entire cup before I groaned and gave in.

"Fine, I want to talk about it," I said. Mom cheered, leaning in close to listen. I explained everything. I told her about how I told him I loved him, and then that he told me he loved me, about how I told him not to tell his girlfriend, and that I was sure this was it. "Don't be surprised if they find my body smushed in the middle of the highway."

"I would understand," Mom said, taking it all in.

I got up to get us both another cup. It felt weird talking about it with anyone. I usually liked to keep it to myself until I was about to burst, but my mom had that way about her. I could tell her anything and she'd give me the best advice in the world.

When I sat back down, she was twisting her mouth in thought from side to side. I sipped my coffee, waiting for it.

"So let me get this straight," she said. "You had sex with that boy in my house?"

"Mom!"

She cackled, nearly spilling her coffee when she flailed her arms like she told the funniest joke of the year. I rolled my eyes, feeling my neck flush with embarrassing heat. "Kidding, son," she said, fixing her glasses. "Okay, so, let's see. You love each other. He cheated on his girlfriend. You feel guilty about it so you don't want her to know. But he wants her to know because he wants you. Am I correct so far?"

I frowned. "Yes."

"I'll say this much: as someone who has been cheated on and lied to in the past, she deserves to know the truth. Not saying she'll understand, because who the hell would? But that poor girl thinks she met her prince charming," Mom said, a bit of a grimace on her face. "Not to mention . . ."

"Don't say it."

"If he was that quick to cheat on her with you, who's to say he wouldn't do the same thing with you? How you get them is often how you lose them, babe."

I hated how right she was.

There was no telling if cheating was a normal thing for Dallas. Maybe he'd done it before. Maybe I was just a part of his game. It wasn't like I knew a thorough history of his dating life and every red flag he'd acquired.

I was also reminded that he did break up with his girlfriend two years ago to pursue me. He didn't cheat that time.

"Damn it," I muttered. "More of a reason that we could never work. Now that thought is in my mind."

Mom smiled sadly. "Sometimes love is ugly."

Could not have said it better myself. Love truly was ugly, while beautiful at the same time. It was like that optical illusion that's been around forever. A picture, depicting a homely old woman with a large nose and forehead. Then you flip the picture upside down and it's a beautiful princess, light features and much more lovely to look at. Dallas's love was achingly beautiful, but the situation we were in was hideous.

"What do I do?"

"Well, what do you want?"

"I want to take back the last twenty-four hours," I said honestly. "I wish I hadn't come here. And I wish I'd handled things differently with him."

She nodded. "I think that's your answer then. Cut him off. It was a fun summer fling and winter came and went. You have to do what's right for you and let him handle his own shit."

"Alright. It's official then. No more Dallas."