"You'll never believe who was at the rally."

Kara was gallivanting around our room and chirping about her night like a drunk parakeet when I rolled over to find her. My eyelids were heavy, the morning light so obnoxiously bright that I had to squint to see through it. My mind felt like it was being obstructed by thick fog, an irritant compounded by the dull pain that throbbed at the front of my head.

Oh, yeah. Tequila. AKA, Satan.

"That girl from my accounting class. Jarrod's ex. You know the one I told you about?"

I didn't.

I rubbed my head with my hand, wincing as Kara's shrill voice shot through every part of my brain like tiny shards of ice. And then I remembered.

Tequila.

Dancing.

James.

James.

In my room.

On me.

In ... my bed.

My lower stomach curled at the memory of him on top of me, my skin tingling at the thought of his lips trailing down my jaw to my neck. I could feel his hands on my chest, moving lower and lower ...

I frowned.

Because the space beside me was barren, occupied only by my crinkled white sheets.

Two scenarios flashed through my mind. Either I imagined mine and James' entire interaction, or he'd left me after I asked him to stay. As empty as it made me feel, I hoped it was the first. I hoped he didn't leave me.

"Whose is that?" Kara asked, pausing her long-winded monologue to appraise me with a raised eyebrow.

I followed her gaze down to my torso where an oversized denim jacket was covering me like a blanket.

James' denim jacket.

"Well, well, well. Look what happens when I'm away for a night." Kara giggled, popping her hands on her hips proudly. "Maybe I should leave you the room more often."

I barely heard her. All I could think was, It did happen.

I knew it. How could I have fabricated that night? A night of electricity like I'd never, ever felt before in my life.

But my excitement vanished like smoke off an ember, replaced by a familiar aching in my chest.

James left me. 

I practically threw myself at him. I said so many things that I shouldn't have, so many things that probably made him cringe inside. And, finally, I did it. I scared him away for good.

Everyone leaves everyone. Everyone hurts everyone. Heartbreak is inevitable. Why did I think that I was the exception to my own hypothesis?

Just as I moved a hand to hide the tears brimming in my eyes, it grazed over something tucked into my bedsheets. It was a piece of stationery paper from my desk—white with black hearts decorating the corners—with a message that had been scrawled rather clumsily in the middle. As though whoever wrote it did so in the dark of night.

This is torture M. Breakfast tomorrow? Come wake me if you're up first. J

I read it again. I read it three times.

Instantly, that pain in my chest melted away, and all that I felt was relief. 

Relief and hope.

The morning air was brisk, sweet with the smell of coffee and pastries as I walked back through the quad from the student union coffee shop. It was no secret that the café that Holly worked at made the best coffee on campus, but I couldn't risk facing her. She hadn't looked too pleased when James and I ran away from her to get lost on the dance floor.

The memory of us dancing together lifted my lips into a small grin. I couldn't explain what I was feeling; it was like I'd captured a bit of the sun in my chest. Like it was growing and growing, its rays warming every vein and limb. The morning air was freezing cold, but even in only my light sweater and leggings, I felt so warm.

I practically skipped up the stairs of my dorm building, bagels and three fresh coffees in hand. Double shot espresso for James, lactose-free latte for me, regular latte for Dex. After I told him what Holly had told me the night before, he'd need it.

I still didn't know what I was going to do about my project. Holly's revelation totally squashed the last ounce of hope I had of making it work. And telling Dex what she'd revealed to me would certainly tear up any chance of something happening between them for good. Sure, heartbreak was inevitable, but would Dex's heart really break? The biggest sting would come from the fact that, yet again, his charming, smart, gorgeous best friend had stolen the heart of the girl he was crushing on.

My smile widened. That time, I had no problem admitting that James was gorgeous. In fact, he was a lot of things. He was real. And he said that he wanted me. Me. He wanted me so much that he was willing to wait, to make sure that anything we did was something that I wanted, too.

I did. I wanted it more than I'd wanted anything in a long time.

The corridor was still quiet as I made my way to the guys' room. It was eight A.M. on a Sunday, and most of the doors were still closed, signaling that the rooms' inhabitants were passed out on the other side. But if James was like me, then sleep was the last thing on his mind.

I considered texting him when I was in line at the coffee shop, but decided that surprising him would be far more fun. Just the thought of seeing him straight out of bed, all droopy-eyed and disheveled (as disheveled as he could be), was enough to stir those butterflies in my stomach. I knocked on the door three times, painting my lips in my best attempt at something half sweet and half seductive.

I waited for a few seconds after knocking, but the door didn't budge.

Maybe I hadn't knocked loudly enough.

Just as I stepped forward to give it another shot, it inched open the tiniest bit. Enough for an eye to poke through the crack.

A female eye. And not just any female.

Joanna edged out through the crack between the door and the wall, a confused smile scrunching her make-up-free face. Her complexion was as clear as the ocean, her eyelashes thick and curled all on their own. But the worst part wasn't her natural, effortless beauty. It was the shirt she was wearing.

James' shirt. From the night before. The same one that had been pressed against my back only hours ago.

James' black shirt was hugging Joanna's otherwise naked body, her long, tanned legs bouncing off the light from the corridor.

"Good morning," she drawled, her voice low and raspy. Her eyes flickered over my frame, bright and golden. "I didn't know that Camden had room service."

Confusion creased my brow for only a moment before I realized that she didn't remember me.

Or that she wanted me to think that she didn't remember me.

"It doesn't." My heart spasmed wildly as I directed my eyes away from that shirt and my mind away from the horrible thoughts that taunted the rest of me.

Why was Joanna in James' room? Why was she wearing nothing but his shirt from the night before?

I took a steady breath and forced the rogue thoughts away. But my head was running through every possible worst-case scenario.

"I'm Madison," I said, coating each word with enough conviction to stop my nerves from peeking through. "We met at the Bennet wedding."

She tilted her head softly, her chocolate curls falling over her shoulder. Her hooded eyes narrowed as they flirted over my face again. After another second of evaluation, they sprung open with something akin to recognition.

"Madison," she declared thoughtfully. "That's right. Jimmy's little friend."

My heart constricted. I clenched my jaw.

"Is James here?" I asked, motioning to the tray of coffee. "I have something for—"

"Oh, brilliant!" she exclaimed, her eyes bulging as she stole the drinks from my hand. "I was just about to go out and get some myself." She spared a look over her shoulder, peering back into the room that was shielded from my vision. When she turned back to me, her voice was lower than before. "Jimmy's still sleeping. Big night, if you know what I mean."

In case I didn't, she winked.

"I'll be sure to let him know that you dropped by. Thanks, Madeline."

My lips parted to retort back, but before I could summon the right words, the door closed in my face.

I stood there staring at the wood for a good twenty seconds. When my eyes refocused, I realized that my nails were pressing into my palms, embellishing the delicate skin with tiny, crescent moons. My jaw was tight, my teeth pressing down hard against one another. But none of that came close to the sting of tears behind my eyelids, or the ache in my throat from holding them back.

I swallowed. It was like swallowing blades.

Big night, if you know what I mean.

I had a pretty good idea. I'd seen the state of James in my room the night before. How he'd wanted to do the right thing, but how far I'd pushed him. How close he'd come to casting his conscience aside, to sacrificing it for the sinful desire that poured from his devilish eyes. Wasn't it the same thing I'd done to Eli? When I was ready, but he'd said he wanted to wait, and I'd teased him and tempted him, only pushing him into Lola's waiting arms?

That note James had left me ... This is torture, M. Cradling my sleeping frame only frustrated him more.

And then Joanna had dropped by. She was wearing his shirt, for god's sake. A shirt I knew smelled like spice and cinnamon, like musk and like him and probably a bit like me.

But that had never stopped Lola.

Flashes strobed behind my eyes, as clearly as if they were playing out on the door. Eli became James. Lola became Joanna. Eli. James. Lola Joanna. Again and again and again and ... And it was happening again. It was going to keep happening, because people always lied to me, lied and then left and then chose someone else—

I sucked in a breath. Yes. I had a feeling that I knew exactly what Joanna meant. Because James was a man. And men were all the same. Dad. Eli. James. Dad. Eli. James. Same same same same—

Before I knew it, I was back in the quad. I was letting the cold morning wind whip my cheeks like a belt. I needed the physical pain. Needed to push my tears and pain back into the overcrowded depths of my mind. I wouldn't cry over James Bennet. I wouldn't cry because there was nothing to cry over. I hadn't lost him, because I'd never had him.

But why had he said those things to me? The mathematical, analytical part of my brain needed to figure it out. Was it just because I was there? Just because I was easy, convenient? Broken? Or was it because of the truth he'd seen in my eyes all those weeks ago when we'd first met—when I'd said I would date him, but we both knew I wouldn't. Was I just a game to him? A notch?

My heart ached so much. I didn't know how there was enough of it left for another piece to be sliced off, didn't know it was possible to feel so much betrayal and pain and disappointment. My college resolutions mocked me behind my eyelids. They scolded me for tossing them aside. And for what? More broken promises? More pretty words?

I did the only thing that I could think to do at that moment. I went to the library. I found the most populated table that I could find—a difficult task on a Sunday morning. I had nothing to study, nothing to read. I just wanted to be lost in a sea of blurry faces, to pretend that I wasn't me, and to pretend that my pain didn't exist.