He reaches forward to cup my cheek, his stare falling to my lips, but I flinch away, backing up. “We’re not supposed to be anything,” I say firmly, not bothering to hide my irritation anymore. “I can’t do this anymore, Damien. I’m sorry. I need space.”

“Don’t—”

The air in the room is static for a moment before I break the spell, feeling the desperate urge to leave. I stand, setting the letterman jacket on his bed. He grabs my wrist forcefully, causing me to freeze. Glancing down at him, I see he’s laced his fingers through his hair now, his gaze on the floor as he leans on his elbow. He doesn’t say anything, grip tightening, and my heart thunders, trying to leap out of my chest. I’ve never seen him act like this before.

“I’m sorry,” he grinds out, voice cracking. “I’m sorry about everything. All of it. Please don’t leave. I should’ve never—I wish I could take it back.”

I don’t know what he’s apologizing for. “Take what back?”

He keeps his head down, and I find myself holding my breath. There’s something very disturbing about his silence.

“Damien,” I say, louder this time. “What did you do?”

Damien chokes out a sob, and a feeling of dread tightens in my chest, but he doesn’t answer, and I grow tired of waiting.

“Let go of me.”

“Two years,” he says, after a pause, low and haunting. “We’ve been together for two years. Don’t throw that down the drain.”

My heart sinks, plummeting into my stomach. But as soon as the next words come to me, I know I have to say them, no matter how much they’ll hurt him. I need to sever our ties. “I don’t remember either of them,” I say.

When the sting of my words hits him, he releases me slowly, not even bothering to look up. His rigid posture sends a chill skittering down my spine.

“I’m sorry, Damien,” I say, my voice as sincere as I can manage, and then I leave the room, feeling like I can breathe again once I’m out in the hallway.

I hurry down the stairs, unsure of what I’m supposed to do now. Voices carry from the living room. By ending things with Damien, I’m certain I probably just ruined my relationship with Zoe and James too.

“What are they doing up there?” I hear Zoe mutter. “It’s taking forever.”

“Jealous, are we?”

“Give it a rest, James.”

For a few moments, I stare at the front door, tempted to walk through it without another word, but I’m scared of what the aftermath of that would look like. Swallowing both my pride and my anxiety, I square my shoulders and head into the living room.

They both look up as I enter, watching my face carefully.