I was crying about leaving him.
About how I’d made the biggest mistake of my life.
“You kissed me,” Z says softly, and my blood turns to ice. “Right here on the bed. You just—you pulled me down and kissed me, and I thought?—”
He runs a hand through his hair, looking almost embarrassed. “Fuck, Harper, I thought you were finally ready. That you finally wanted?—”
“No!” The word rips out of me. “No, I didn’t—Iwouldn’t?—”
But even as I say it, there’s this horrible, sinking feeling.
Because Idon’t remember. After a certain point, everything went black.
Wine before beer. Black out on Jack.
Everybody knows that.Iwould’ve fucking known that before I grabbed the bottle from Z.
Oh my God. What the hell have I done? The past few days as Z and I hitch-hiked south, all I’ve been thinking about is how I’ll get back to Dallas and explain everything to Caleb so I can make it right.
But now?—
“Hey.” Z’s voice goes softer, concerned.
He reaches for me again but stops himself this time before actually touching me.
“Harper, babe, I’m not—Oh God, I didn’t take advantage of you. Is that what you think? You have to know I wouldn’t do that. You do know that, right?”
He’s starting to sound a little panicky, and my immediate impulse is to comfort him.
“Of course, I do,” I respond immediately, putting a hand on his arm. But he still must be freaked out, because he keeps going.
“You told me— You said you’d been thinking about it. Aboutus. That you realized leaving with me was the right choice because we’re meant to be together.”
“I said that?” My voice sounds hollow. Like it doesn’t belong to me.
“Yeah.” He smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “You said Caleb was never going to be able to give you what I can. That he’s too tied to his perfect life. You said?—”
He pauses, like he’s deciding whether or not to continue but then does, anyway. “You said you loved me.”
The room tilts.
“No,” I shake my head, hard enough that pain spikes through my temples. “No, I didn’t?—”
“You did, Harp. And I said it back. I’ve been waiting so long to hear you say that.”
His hand finds mine through the comforter and squeezes. “It’s always been you and me. Since we were kids. You and me against the world. Two peas in a pod.”
I can’t breathe. Can’t think. Can’t?—
I jerk my hand away and scramble off the bed, clutching the comforter around myself like armor. My bare feet hit the stained carpet and I nearly trip, but I catch myself on the dresser.
The TV is still on, the volume muted. Some early morning infomercial selling kitchen knives. The bottle of Jack sits on the nightstand, mostly empty.
Evidence.
All of it.
Evidence of a night I don’t remember.