I vaguely remember hearing about that accident. Someone at school knew the victim. I didn’t know any specific details, just that it had happened. My heart hurts for him and everything he witnessed and had to deal with. And he essentially did it alone. Yes, he had Molly, but I can’t help but think… he could’ve had me. I could’ve been there for him, helped him through the dark time, but he didn’t let me. Didn’t even give me the choice.

Which I do get. What he had to go through is a lot, and even trying to think of anyone’s feelings and emotions other than your own, when you probably can’t even decipher how you’re feeling, must be next to impossible.

Still, more than anything, I wish he would’ve communicated with me. Not left me completely in the dark. I spent years—years—wondering what I did wrong, where it shattered, what I could’ve done differently… when it wasn’t ever me to begin with.

His lips leave mine, trailing along my jaw and down my neck, lighting fire to every inch of skin he touches. We’ve been kissing for all of five minutes, and I’m already going out of my mind with need. Embers flare to life between us as I walk him backwards toward my room. Life without our hands all over each other right now is impossible.

I don’t bother turning on the light once we cross through the threshold as he continues to walk backwards until his legs hit my bed. He doesn’t sit right away, instead reaching for the hem of my shirt, yanking it over my head. Reaching and doing the same to him, I toss the shirt on the ground before my lips find their way to his chest. His flesh is blazing hot as I trail kisses all along the open expanse.

My hands come to his pecs, shoving him until he falls back onto the bed, and I greedily drink him in. Every inch of him—every exposed muscle, every hard line, every divot and dip. Even the shameless bulge in his pants that makes my mouth water.

I stupidly believed I could hate him. Believed I could stay away from him. Believed I could save myself. But there’s no saving myself from Stone. There is no universe where he and I could be anything other than connected. Our hearts and our souls are strung together by some invisible life force that can’t be severed. It’s as unapologetic as it is unavoidable. My body was meant to be loved, to be worshiped by him, and him, me. It’s undeniable, like fate.

Like kismet.