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"Shit!" I drop onto my hands and knees and start picking them up.

"Guess you should have stayed down like you were supposed to," Silas says before kneeling beside me and helping me gather the pills. "What's all this? Did I turn you into a junkie, too?"

"No, I'm not a junkie. I don't take them very often—only on really hard days or when I really need sleep. I don't sleep well."

I don't mention the nightmares.

"That's probably my fault, too, isn't it?"

"Not exactly."

Silas scoffs, shaking his head. "Okay, sure. I think we gotthem all."

He empties the contents of his hand into the orange bottle and takes it from me, replacing it in the medicine cabinet.

"Wait, that's not where it was," I say, standing again. "They're in alphabetical order." I move it to the correct shelf and close the cabinet just before he turns the corner.

"Silas…you can't be mad at me."

He pauses, stuffing his hands into the pocket of his hoodie, and leans against the doorframe.

"Please? I can't take it."

"I'm not mad at you, Noah. I'm mad at myself."

"I'm not." I step toward him, leaning against the opposite side of the doorframe. "I don't blame you. It's not your fault."

"How can you say that? Look what I did to you…"

"Do I look that bad?" I ask, biting my lower lip to keep it from trembling.

"No," he says. "No, that's not what I mean—you're still beautiful." He sighs and takes a step toward me, pushing my hair behind my right ear. "But you're sick, baby. You're suffering. And thatismy fault."

I shake my head. "No."

"It is, Noah. You know it's my fault, and you should be mad at me. You were always so fucking special to me and so fucking good to me, even when we were just friends. When the rest of the world was bleak and ugly and…poisoned with sameness and disappointing predictability, you were rare. No one saw it, and you hated it, but I never hated it. I liked that they didn't know you. I liked having you to myself. I've been in love with you for the better part of a decade. Did you know that?"

"I didn't know that."

"I'm so fucking sorry, Noah. And…fuck. I was rough with you, and you said your body hurts…" He pauses, pressing his lips together and shaking his head. "You should hate me. You should punish me."

"I don't want to. You're the only person…" I stop, taking a deep breath. "I love you. And I'm sorry I never told you that before, and I don't care what you did. I don't care that I should hate you, and even if I could stop loving you—and I can't—I wouldn't want to. I was terrified when that video went viral, but when you found me, I was relieved. It felt wrong not knowing you, too. I forgot what it felt like to have someone in the world who cares about me. Therealme, not the…fake version."

"You shouldn't love me. I broke you. I left you."

"I know." I swallow hard. "Don't do it again."

Silas leans in, kissing my lips, and I hook my fingers into the waistband of his jeans, pulling him in closer while his tongue takes over my mouth. He hitches one of my legs up around his waist and moans against my lips when he grinds between my legs. I slide my hands under his shirt, over his hard abs and chest, and whimper in protest when he pulls back, grazing my lip with his teeth before moving onto my neck.

"Oh, god…" I whisper, rocking my hips against him. "What if Jodie comes back?"

"I put a tracker on her car," he says, tracing the length of my throat with his tongue. His hand slides up my thigh and over my ass before slipping inside my waistband. "We'll get a notification if it moves."

Then he pulls my yoga pants down over my hips and sinks to his knees, pushing my thighs apart with the palms of his handbefore slowly tracing my wet slit with his tongue and pushing it inside me.

"Fuck…" I moan, letting my head drop and my eyes fall closed. He swirls his tongue inside me, nuzzling his face against me before pulling back and moving his attention onto my clit. I grip the doorframe and arch my back, pushing my hips forward to give him better access, and gasp at the increased pressure.

"Silas…oh, my god…"