“Hey, little sis. I’m indisposed for a bit, but don’t let Jones drive you home, ok? Grab Uber. C U tomorrow.”

He’s texting me little sister messages before his has sex with another girl.

What am I even doing?

I find Jones to tell him goodbye. He protests, but his eyes are red, and he’s not really fighting it. I order a ride and try to chill the whole way home. Shane is just being Shane. He was still very sweetly looking out for me, even as he was about to get with someone else. He’s never been anything but honest with me.

It’s me that has a problem. I’m reading too much into my “relationship” with the guys. It’s Fletch I’m still mad at. Fletch who hurt my feelings on purpose. Fletch who knew where I was softest, so that’s where he aimed his barb.

My inexperience with sex is far less troubling to me than my inexperience with my heart. I didn’t expect it to be so tender.

I get home to a dark house. I’m walking down the hall when I see it.

There’s a sock on Fletch’s doorknob.

He’s got a woman in there with him.

My phone vibrates again. This time it’s Jenna. “How is the date? I want all the deets tomorrow.”

My eyes are a little blurry as I plop onto my bed and answer her. “Great. Everything is great. We’ll probably go out again next weekend.”

Quietly, so as not to disturb the sex-fest happening in Fletch’s room, I pull a cardboard box out of my closet.

I’ll be gone in the morning.

Chapter Twelve

Six hours later, I’m carefully stacking a cardboard box on top of another on the porch, trying not to wake my roommates up. I don’t have a lot of stuff, still. I haven’t exactly been accumulating things since the house was furnished when I moved in.

I creep back in and find Shane standing in the middle of the room yawning. My pulse races, first from the scare, and then from that deep vee leading into the low waistband of his sweatpants.

“Shane, you scared me.”

He finishes his yawn and shakes his head like he’s trying to clear it. His bedhead is distracting. My fingers itch to tousle the blond locks even more.

“What are you doing outside, little bit?”

“Nothing,” I answer brightly. Too brightly. Like I’m auditioning for cheer team. I’m not very good at subterfuge.

Fletch stumbles out of his room. “What are you guys doing up so early?”

I notice the sock is gone, but I never heard anyone leave, and I was up most of the night. Is she still in there? Did he cuddle her into the wee hours of the morning? Does he like to cuddle?