Cassia climbs off the bed and walks into the bathroom without saying a word. I sit up and pull on my boxers, a strange mixture of relief and regret filling my chest.

There’s no party downstairs to disappear into, which is what usually follows sex. Should I offer for her to sleep here? I wait for the trickle of dread to appear, but it doesn’t. Sleeping next to her sounds…nice.

She reappears, dressed in the same sleep shorts and sweatshirt from the pool. “I won’t mention you to McKenzie if she’s back yet,” Cassia says.

Apparently, she doesn’t want anyone to know we slept together. Or maybe that’s what she thinks I want?

“Because it’s none of her business, or because you think that’s what I want?”

Her eyes widen, like she expected me to just nod along. “Both.”

I scoff. “You’re wrong.”

She hesitates before speaking again, and I hate it. I want her to be honest with me, not be weighing words.

“I knew what this was, Holden. You’re not—we’re not—it was just sex, right?”

I can’t figure out what part of that chafes. Why it feels like I should be shaking my head in response instead of nodding. Once again, she’s saying exactly what I should want to hear.

She nods too. “Okay. Good night.”

Without consciously deciding to, I’m standing and walking over to her. I’m still not sure what to say, so I act instead. I tilt her chin up and kiss her. Deep and heady. Thorough and consuming.

Her eyes scan my face once our lips separate.

“Good night.”

Whatever she’s wondering, she doesn’t voice it. Cassia smiles and walks away, out of the room and into the hallway. The door shuts behind her and I sink back down onto the bed, resting my face in my palms and then scrubbing them over my face.

Trying to reconcile how that felt right and wrong.

Like everything and nothing.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CASSIA

The familiar shape of Pembrooke High School appears. I rub at the condensation that’s formed on the inside of the window. The trees that separate the main brick building from the football field are nearly bare, just brown branches waving in the wind with only a few orange leaves stubbornly clinging to the bark.

The bus comes to a stop along the curb. Immediately, the rustle of activity picks up around me as my peers stand and stretch. Grab belongings and say goodbyes.

I stand and pull my backpack on before following the flow of traffic down the few steps and onto the sidewalk. The leaves that left the branches crunch beneath my boots as I scan the bags being unloaded from the luggage compartment beneath the bus. I finally spot my duffel bag and pick it up, slinging it over one shoulder.