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Sincerity was one of Sophie’s best qualities and she had many. I’d never thought of sincerity as so endearing, but she’d changed my mind about a lot of things.

“Well. You did offer to help edit my fanfic. So, uh, maybe you could? I’m in the middle of one right now, but maybe for the next one?”

Her smile was gorgeous. I wanted to tell her more things that would make her smile like that. She could have whatever she wanted if only she’d smile at me like that.

“I would absolutely love that, Reid,” she said. “It would be my honor.”

“Good.”

Fuck, I wanted to kiss her. In between all the other shit I’d had buzzing around my head like angry bees, I’d been thinking about the kiss. If I ranked all the kisses I’d had in my life, that was at the top, easily. Sophie didn’t need me to teach her anything in that department.

“You’re staring at me,” she said, her voice singing a little bit.

“Am I?” I asked, even though I knew that I had been.

“Yup. You are.”

She’d leaned closer to me, enveloping me in that fruity sweet scent she had.

“Soph,” I said, my voice soft.

“Yes, Reid.”

I pressed my lips together and leaned away from her. “Bad idea.”

“What is?” she asked, her eyes wide and innocent.

“You know what.”

She just gave me a mischievous look.

“I think I should go,” I said, getting up.

She gazed up at me, biting her bottom lip before letting it go. “You don’t have to.”

I did. One of us needed to do the right thing. Sophie was too good for me.

“I do,” I said, and her face fell.

“Okay.”

“Thank you, though. For the cupcakes and listening and for everything you said. It means the world to have you next door, Soph.” I couldn’t say more or else I’d cave and walk back over and kiss her.

So I left.

I felt like shit when I shut the door and leaned against it. Why did I keep hurting her?

I let out a frustrated sound and tugged my hands through my hair.

Why did this all have to be so damn complicated? Why did I have to be so complicated? Weighed down by all this shit.

But if I reached for Sophie, I’d drag her down with me. I’d never be good enough.

Why did that hurt so fucking much? I’d cried for an hour in therapy today and yet there were tears on my cheeks. Again. Like I’d opened a dam and now I was nothing but raw emotions and tears and open wounds from the past.

I was a fucking wreck.

Sniffling and wiping my face, I got up off the floor (where I wanted to stay, to be honest) and went to take a shower. Getting in bed seemed like the wisest decision right now. Getting in bed with a book. There was a new release by one of my favorite authors that I’d been holding off on reading until I really needed it, and tonight was the night. This was a romance book emergency.