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It’s not that I didn’t expect it. It’s just that it cut deeper than I thought it would. I dug my fingertips into my chest, pressing against my thundering heart and shaky breaths. Anger, and resentment, and a churning in the pit of my stomach battled for my attention, but I shoved them down—down along with my pride, because despite the way he clearly regretted handing those pieces of himself over to me last night, I still found myself standing up and following him.

He had to have known that I was behind him, but he didn’t stop. He didn’t slow down or turn around or acknowledge me at all. If anything, his pace only picked up as he strode across the parking lot, almost too quick for me to keep up.

I think I’d decided right then and there, before we’d even had the conversation that followed, that I was over it—the back and forth, the give and take away, the uncertainty. I was better than that; I deserved better than that. I knew that, and yet it still hurt. I knew that, and yet my throat still tightened, and my heart still felt like it had been bruised.

“Greyson,” I called out, just as he reached Lady’s door.

The muscles in his arms tensed as he gripped the straps of his backpack and reluctantly turned around. He ran his hand through his hair, slid it down the back of his neck, returned it to the strap of his backpack—all while refusing to look me in the eyes. He was scanning the parking lot instead. The school, the trees, the sky, his shoes.

I’d spent a lot of time watching Greyson, studying him. But it was different this time. This time I wanted to shove him, and strangle him, and kiss him, and scream at him to never talk to me again.

Like that would be a problem for him. Clearly.

I hated the way he made me feel. Vulnerable, exposed. A little broken. Enough for him to see my hurt through the cracks.

Then get on with it, Jess. End this once and for all and get the hell out of here.

“So, you regret it then,” I dug the words out from where I desperately wanted to keep them buried. The almost kiss, theI love you, the opening himself up to me; I wasn’t sure which one of these things I was talking about, but it didn’t matter. It felt like he regretted them all.

He sighed and finally looked up at me, sliding his hands into his pockets. “I didn’t say that,” he said. His features were smoothed in a way that expertly hid whatever thoughts or emotions were lurking behind them.

I scoffed in response, crossing my arms in front of me. Anger simmered in my veins. “You haven’t saidanything!” I yelled, and I debated turning around and just walking away, because there was no way inhell I was going to let him see me cry. But I kept my feet planted where they were and managed to hold it all in—the tears, the chaos of screaming attempting to claw its way up my throat.

I bit the inside of my cheek, released it. Took a deep breath, and released it, too.

It was his eyes. His eyes were what said everything he clearly didn’t want to:Regret, regret, regret.

“You don’t haveto say it. It’s pretty obvious,” I said with more calm than I would’ve thought possible.

He cleared his throat, and a sliver of that regret slipped through his mask. If I wasn’t mistaken, it almost pained him just to look at me.

Awesome.

I pressed the heels of my hands into my eyes. They burned with unshed tears. Tears I wanted to set free. I wanted to sit down in a hidden pocket of the world and let a lifetime of them go, because I was exhausted,so fucking exhausted, from holding them all in.

“Shit,” he exhaled. “I’m sorry,Jess. I am. But I’ve told you I can’t do this. I’m not just saying it to be an asshole; Ican’twant you. I can’t. I don’t know how many times I can say it and still feel like I mean it.” He stepped towards me, involuntarily, and ran his hand through his hair, his eyes searing into mine. “You know this isn’t simply about Jaymes, right?” he pleaded. “It goes a lot deeper than that. I like you, Jess—a fucking lot—but if we did this?” he gestured between us with one hand, “I’d only end up hurting us both in the end. I got caught up in a moment that I shouldn’t have, and I’m sorry. I thought we could be friends—that I could be your friend, but…” He took a deep breath and released it, a look of broken resignation settling on his features. It made my stomach drop. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea anymore. I think we should distance ourselves,” he finished.

His words felt like a punch to the gut. He was breaking up with me,even though we were never even together to begin with.

A bubble of insanity slid up my throat and spilled out of my mouth. “Wow.” I laughed, bitter and angry. “I mean, you must think so highly of yourself,sparing us both.How noble.” I turned around to walk away but spun right back around again. “You know what? Fuck you, Greyson.”

He actually looked hurt by my words.Good.

“Jess,” he said, a last-ditch effort, before exhaling a “Fuck,”his fingers gripping his hair tightly. He let it fall with an audible sigh and turned around without another word, Lady’s door slamming shut. Her motor thundered, tires squealing out of the parking lot.

I was good at that.

Pushing people further than they pushed me.

Twenty-nine Before

AND THAT’S HOWGreyson and I had effectively screwed up our friendship. It had taken five weeks, less than four seconds of knowing him, three slightly embarrassing rejections, two almost kisses, and one too many nights under the stars to build one of the best friendships I’d ever had.

But it had only taken one conversation, two broken hearts, and three words to ruin it all.

Or maybe it was more than that. Maybe it had been simmering for a long time, waiting for the right second to boil over. Maybe it had been inevitable. But he wouldn’t talk to me after that, would hardly look at me. I didn’t care, not really. At least that’s what I kept telling myself. But I couldn’t ignore my heart. It was a little broken, or a lot broken.

In reality, it felt like a part of my world had come crashing down on me. Like an eclipse had come in and stolen back all of the light Greyson had given me.