She holds my gaze for a moment before walking toward the car, bike in tow.

My knuckles whiten on the steering wheel as we drive. Nora's voice cuts through the silence, sharp with frustration.

"So why?"

"Why what?"

"Why have you been acting like a royal jackass and ignoring me?"

"I haven't been ignoring you."

"Yes, you have." She turns in her seat, eyes searching my face. "One minute we're fine, and the next, it's like I don't exist. What gives?"

Rays of dying sunlight flash across her face. She looks—I don't know—unreal. Untouchable. Fractured in that way that makes you want to look and not look at the same time. "It's not you."

"Then what is it? Because I'm sick of tip-toeing around you. It's fucking annoying."

The curse catches me off guard—Nora never swears. "I've just got... a lot on my plate right now. It's not about you." But that's a lie so big it could choke me.

It has everything to do with her.

With how close I am to imploding when I’m near her yet how natural it felt to have her in my arms the other night. And how fucking terrifying it is to want something—someone—this much when everything in my life is a house of cards waiting to collapse.

Nora shifts, folding her arms as she stares out the windshield. "Welcome to life, Nate. We've all got shit going on that other people don't know about."

As soon as the words leave her mouth, I look over and catch the flash of regret across her face, like she's said too much, revealing a card she wasn't ready to play.

"What does that mean?"

"Nothing." Her voice drops, soft and wounded. "I just... I feel like I've done something to make you this mad at me. Have I?" She asks, and fuck if those words don't sound like every sad playlist I've ever hate-listened to.

"No," I say, which is basically a lie wrapped in bullshit.

You just exist in a world where I can't have you and it's slowly killing me.

I mean, how do you tell someone: you're everywhere and nowhere, and I'm losing my mind trying to figure out which hurts more?

"Listen, you didn't do anything wrong," I rush to reassure her, guilt gnawing at my insides like acid. "It's just… everything's been a mess lately, and I'm trying to sort myself out. I shouldn't have been so hot and cold with you, okay? I'm sorry."

She sighs, the sound heavy with everything we're not saying. "I just wish you'd talk to me. I thought we were better than this." Her expression softens. "Is it even possible for things to go back to the way they were before?"

I meet her eyes, finding my own longing reflected back. "I don't know."

"Can we try?" she says quietly.

"We can try,” I reply, not knowing if either of us believe me right now.