Page 3

Two suitcases fill my dorm, surrounded by laundry and books.

The bare walls feel wrong without my posters and shelves lined with books.

My bed looks like a wreck because I finally took down a collage I made.

It has all my favorite quotes, prints of classic book covers, and Polaroids from freshman year.

My roommate, Jess, is in class right now. Lucky her, she won’t have to help me pack anymore. Now it’s just me, packing up the last of my stuff before heading home to my dad’s. I am transferring to Blackridge midyear.

I drop my bag on my bed and roll the half empty suitcase over to me. The knock at the door comes just as I’m folding up the collage.

“Come in!” I yell, steadying the fold without making a heavy crease line.

Aaron opens the door with a smirk. He is six-foot-two, has blonde hair cropped short, and brown eyes that crinkle when he smiles. He’s in a fitted black T-shirt that hugs his gym-obsessed frame.

“Hey, gorgeous,” he says, stepping in and closing the door behind him.

“Hey.” I tip my head up and kiss him when he walks over.

“Do you really have to go?” he murmurs, his hands sliding to my waist as he nudges the suitcase to the side.

“I know. I know,” I tease, pulling back.

“I’m gonna miss this,” he says, grinning. He points at the chaos behind me. “You were always so messy.”

“Am not,” I argue, though he’s probably right. I don’t think I’ve ever kept a tidy dorm room.

He tosses his backpack onto Jess’s empty bed.

I stand to grab more things to pack from the closet, but before I can do anything, he’s behind me, his hands on my hips.

“Pack later. Right now, I want to spend time with my girlfriend,” he says, his lips brushing my ear.

“Aaron,” I warn, but he doesn’t let go.

He tugs me down into his lap as he sits on my bed. I roll my eyes but let it happen. “Seriously, I need to finish packing.”

“Or,” he says, nuzzling my neck, “you could take a break.”

I’m about to argue when I notice the way his hands tighten on my thighs. He shifts, and I can feel him hard against me. My breath catches, but I shake my head, trying to stay focused.

“Aaron, come on.”

“You’re always so busy,” he murmurs, pushing my sweater up, exposing skin. His lips graze my shoulder. “My little busy bee.”

I grab his hands, stopping him. “Aaron.”

He groans but lets me go. “I’ve been patient, Sienna.”

“Yeah,” I say softly.

“You don’t want me?” he asks in a sad tone.

“It’s not that,” I say quickly. “I’m just–”

He looks at me, his jaw tight. “Sienna, we’ve been together for almost six months.”

“Yeah, but–”

“I’m trying here,” he says. “And now you’re moving.” He exhales sharply, standing up and running a hand through his hair. “You’re killing me, you know that?”

I glare at him, not knowing what to say.

He grabs his bag, heading for the door. He looks like he might say something, but his disappointed eyes meet mine and then he shakes his head. The door shuts behind him, and I sink onto the bed, staring at all the things I still need to pack.

The room is dim, lit only by the glow of my phone screen. I’m curled up on my bed, earbuds in, watching a cooking show. It’s ridiculous how soothing it is to watch people make soufflés I’ll never attempt. I’ve got one leg tucked under me, the other dangling off the bed, touching the suitcase.

I’m just getting to the part where the host is pulling some perfect golden-brown pastry out of the oven when I hear a loud, sloppy knock at the door.

My stomach sinks.

There’s only one person it could be. And my roommate isn’t here to be my buffer.

Sliding off the bed, I pad across the room. “Who is it?”

“It’s me.” Aaron’s voice is muffled, and there’s an edge to it.

I crack the door open, enough to see him leaning against the frame. His eyes are bloodshot, his hair a mess. He reeks of booze.

“Aaron?”

“Can I come in?” he slurs, trying to push past me.

“No.” I block the door with my foot. “What are you doing here?”

“Wanted to see you,” he says, grinning like it’s some grand gesture. “I miss you.”

“It’s late,” I say, keeping my voice steady. “You need to go home.”

“Don’t be like that,” he says, shoving the door open further. I stumble back as he steps inside. “We didn’t finish our conversation earlier.”

“I don’t want to talk about that right now.” I cross my arms, trying to keep distance between us.

He snorts. “Of course, you don’t. Always avoiding shit, Sienna.”

I glare at him. “Are you kidding me? You show up drunk at my door, and you’re gonna start this now?”

He takes another step toward me, his grin fading. “I’ve been patient, haven’t I? Six fucking months, and all I get is excuses.”

“That’s not fair,” I snap, backing up until my legs hit the bed. “We’ve talked about this, Aaron. I’m not ready.”

“Bullshit,” he says, his voice rising. “You’re just playing games.”

“Get out,” I say, pointing to the door.

But instead of leaving, he grabs my wrist. “You don’t mean that.”

“Let me go.” I yank my arm back, but his grip tightens.

“Why are you making this so hard?” he growls, pulling me closer. His other hand clamps around my waist, and panic shoots through me. “I’ll go slow, I promise.”

He kisses my neck and presses his hard dick against my belly.

“Stop!” I shout, shoving at his chest.

“Come on, Sienna,” he whispers, pushing me to the bed. I crawl away from him as he unbuttons his pants. He grabs my legs as I try to kick him off.

“Aaron, stop!” I plead, fear ripping through me. I knew I shouldn’t have let him in.

For a second, he freezes, his eyes narrowing. He buttons his pants back up. Then he lets me go, staggering back like I hit him.

“Jesus, Sienna,” he mutters, running a hand through his hair. “I’m just trying to—”

“Get out!” I cut him off, my voice shaking.

He stares at me, his face twisting into something ugly. “Fine.”

He turns and stumbles toward the door, slamming it behind him so hard the walls shake.

For a long moment, I just sit here, staring at the door. My hands are trembling, my heart is racing, and I can’t believe what he just did. I’m so relieved he stopped himself.

I run to the door and lock it. Then I grab my phone. My first instinct is to call my dad, but it’s late, and he’s probably asleep. Instead, I open our messages and read our last texts to each other.

Miss your baking.

That makes me smile. My dad has always had a soft spot for my cookies, even when I used to burn half of them.

I’ll make some when I’m home, I replied.

Deal.

I can imagine him sitting in his office while texting me, probably going over game plays. Hockey’s been his life as long as I can remember. It’s been the two of us against the world since Mom left.

I set my phone down, letting out a shaky breath. I just need to get through tomorrow, and then I’m out of here. Back home where I belong.

I’m halfway to the airport, staring out the window of the cab, when my phone buzzes. It’s Aaron.

I’m sorry about the other night. I think we should take a break from each other.

I snort. “You think?” I mutter, unlocking my phone.

The text stares back at me like a flashing neon sign.

My thumb hovers over the keyboard, itching to type something snarky, but I stop myself.

What’s the point? Instead, my eyes drift to my screensaver.

It’s a picture of us from last fall, him grinning like an idiot while I tried to pull him into a proper pose.

God, I liked him. I did.

But every time things got close; I froze. Not because I didn’t want it — I wanted it so badly it physically hurt — but because…

I swallow hard, locking the screen and stuffing the phone into my bag. I can’t go down that rabbit hole again.

It’s not like Aaron could’ve given me what I want anyway.

No guy like Aaron would.

My face burns as memories of the romance books I’ve devoured in secret flash through my mind.

The kind where men do things that make normal people run the other way.

I don’t know when it started, but somewhere along the way, I figured out what really got me going wasn’t soft kisses and gentle touches.

It was rough. Dirty. More than one guy at a time.

I want to be tied up, fucked hard, teased until I’m crying—

I close my eyes.

Depraved. That’s what I am. A fucking freak.

Aaron didn’t deserve to deal with all that. And there’s no way I could’ve told him. Hell, I can barely admit it to myself.

By the time we pull up to the airport, my stomach is in knots. I tip the driver, grab my bag, and make my way inside.

The check-in line moves slowly, giving me too much time to think.

This break up is for the best. We both knew it was coming, and the drunk situation from last night was his last hurrah. He wanted to make things work long distance, but I knew that we wouldn’t last. Aaron was never the guy for me. I just wish last night didn’t happen.

When I finally make it to the gate, my boarding pass has me stopping in my tracks. First-class?

I blink, flipping the paper over like it’s got a mistake. Nope. First-class.

Smiling, I pull out my phone and shoot my dad a text.

You didn’t have to upgrade me but thank you. Love you so much.

He responds almost immediately. You deserve it. Safe travels, kiddo.

My chest tightens. He’s always been this way. Always taking care of me, always making sure I’m okay, even when I don’t ask.

Boarding goes smoothly, and the moment I step onto the plane, I feel the difference. Plush seats, more legroom than I know what to do with, and a glass of champagne waiting on the armrest.

“Nice,” I whisper, settling in.

I reach for the champagne and down it in one gulp.