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Walls that I had spent years building crumble like clay every time he gives me that flirtatious smile or makes me laugh. I had spent years building those barriers, and I thought they were made of steel. Today, when I pulled him from whatever he was doing to fuck him in the library stacks like some horny teenager, for whatever reason, my stomach twisted into knots. The worst part is that I don’t know why. It just felt like something was missing. Maybe it’s because I wished he’d be rougher with me? A part of me wants him to dig his fingers in enough to leave bruises, to grab me, mark me, claim?—

No. I’m not going there. It’s fine. I’m enjoying being with him. It’s not complicated, and that is what I wanted. When we started this, I set some personal boundaries to help me copewith the commitment. Even the thought is laughable. It’s barely a commitment, but I want to claw off my skin whenever I think about tying myself to someone, even with something as simple as a verbal agreement to be true to one another. I’ve never been able to rely on anyone enough to promise them anything, but this is different. He’s the perfect golden boy. He’s patient, funny, smart, and loyal.

And too good for me. Fuck.

Okay, let’s go through it again. I was out for a run. Connor popped into my head, and I texted him. A booty call in the dusty old stacks of the library does not a relationship make, but sending him the message prior still feels like too much advanced planning. My original boundary was that we would not arrange hookups. Doing so leads to expectations and then disappointment if plans are canceled. To avoid all that, we would simply fuck spur of the moment. At least, that had been the plan.

My second rule was to limit dates to the evenings and no more than once a week. Today, after having sex in the library, we went for lunch. Halfway through my Caesar salad, I realized what we were doing. I’d lurched to my feet, whacking my knee on the table in my hurry and babbling an excuse about forgetting plans with Alice. Connor took it in stride as he did everything. He simply stood and cupped my chin, kissing me so softly and with so much familiarity that my chest ached. He’s too good, patient, understanding, and willing to put up with me. That pleasant ache quickly turned to a sharp stabbing pain as the panic set in.

My third and final rule is one that I have had for years. I established it when I became sexually active, and I haven’t thought twice about it since. But with Connor, it causes guilt to claw down my spine like a wolf shifter on the hunt under the full moon. This past week, I have fucked Connor four times, and every single time I managed to convince him that we shouldgo to his house instead of my dorm. At this point, he probably thinks my room is a filthy mess or that we’re housing some kind of demonic beast. Or worse, he’s waiting for me to open up to him. No matter the lameness of the excuse, he would simply lead me back to his place.

Once back at Morningstar House, we would race to his room, both of us undressing manically and falling sloppily onto his bed before getting down and dirty. Every night, after we each had an orgasm or two, I would wait for Connor to fall asleep, and then I would sneak out, just like I did that first night. Every time I do it, the guilt eats away at me a little more. For some reason, it feels like a solid stone of betrayal inside me, but I don’t know how to let these rules go. I put them in place to protect myself and to keep from repeating past mistakes.

Three mornings Connor asked me where I was when he woke up, and three mornings, I gave him some bullshit excuse about why I had to leave his house at 5:00 AM. Sex is a carnal need. It’s passion and fire, but sleeping in someone’s bed and waking up with them in the morning is so intimate. There is an intense vulnerability in facing someone the moment you open your eyes. Your walls lowered enough for them to climb through.

Kelpie Hall has never looked more inviting. I sprint inside and upstairs to our floor, practically wrenching our door open. Anxiety is buzzing under my skin, making my chest tight. I slam the door behind me and start pacing the empty living room, trying to calm myself. My breath is shallow and frantic. There is such a conflict of emotions inside me, emotions I have such little experience with. On the one hand, I am dealing with the guilt and betrayal that persists every time I sneak out of Connor’s bed after he dozes off. On the other hand, there is the deep-seated terror at the idea of committing even more to Connor, allowing him to see more of me.

Alice comes out of her room, and her gaze turns wary when she sees me. “You okay?”

I glance at her, grateful to see her face. I had worried that things would be weird after I opened up to her, but honestly, it only made us closer.

Why couldn’t Connor just be like Alice? I know instinctively that no matter how close Alice and I get or how long we are friends, she will never ask me to open up and be vulnerable. We are too similar in that way. We were both made this way by pasts we’d rather die than revisit. The only difference between us is that Alice’s past was written in blood and mine in stone.

I just pace, my brain racing a million miles a minute, her words getting lost in the fray. Something soft and squidgy hits me on the side of the head. I stop. Shock makes everything inside my head go completely silent. I blink at Alice and then down at the half-empty blood bag on the ground at my feet.

“Oh, good. I thought I was going to have to commit you. What’s going on?” Alice says, moving around the couch.

“I went for a run, and then…” I pause, the words not coming to me easily thanks to the adrenaline still coursing through my system. “Well, I wanted to have sex, so I texted Connor.”

Alice nods. “Against your rules, but fair.”

She is the only person I’d explained my personal boundaries to. It seemed more important she know them than Connor because they have nothing to do with him. They have nothing to do with Alice either, but honestly, in just the two weeks I’ve been here, she’s become the best friend I’ve ever had. She’d just nodded as if they all made perfect sense, making me feel slightly less crazy.

Alice waits for me to continue, and eventually, I start pacing again, but slower. “He was at the library, so we did it there. Then we went for lunch.”

Alice blinks at me, and I give her an incredulous look. “Forlunch, Alice!”

Alice’s lip curls. “How very… coupley of you.”

I scoff derisively. “Fucking tell me about it!” I stop pacing and yank the tie out of my hair, running my fingers through the long strands. “I fucking hate it, and now I’m freaking out. Alice, I’ve only known him for like… two weeks. Two fucking weeks and suddenly we’re going for lunch.”

“So, I know why I hate it because… gross, but why do you hate it?” Alice asks, watching me owlishly.

“I didn’t hate it! That’s the problem! We were actually having a…” I have to hold back another panicked breath, “nice time.”

Alice shudders. “Oh, fuck. You’re in deeper than you thought.”

I start pacing again. “You know what? It’s fine. I just need to establish my boundaries again. We’re fucking. That’s it.”

Alice picks up the blood bag from the ground and opens it again, taking a loud slurp as she grabs a magazine from the coffee table and flops onto the couch. “You think it’ll be that easy?”

“Fuck, you’re right. I’m ending it.”

Alice rolls her eyes and sits up, tossing the magazine back onto the table. “Summer. Connor does it for you, right? Like hedoesit for you.”

I frown. “What are you talking about?”

Alice groans and looks up at the ceiling, obviously seeking some higher power to give her strength. “Do you like having sex with angel boy?”