That was the truth, as messy, ugly, and hypocritical as it was. I tried not to meet his eyes as I said it, afraid of what I’d find there. It made me feel pathetic, and not in that fun, sexy way like when I was begging them for more. In a gross, weak, shameful way.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I don’t expect you to forgive me. Any of you. But I know I really messed up so many times.”

He clicked his tongue, nudging my chin up until I met his eyes. I braced myself for judgment but didn’t find any on his face.

“I can’t forgive on behalf of anyone else,” he said. “But I forgave you back then. I’ve forgiven you every day since. I’ll always forgive you. And if you talk to the boys like you just talked to me, I know they’ll forgive you too.”

It made me feel like crying. I held it back, swallowing hard and inhaling sharply. I was certain I didn’t deserve forgiveness like that. That was part of why I wanted so desperately to leave. I’d burned too many bridges, hurt too many people.

But maybe I hadn’t destroyed everything. Maybe there was still something good to be found here.

“What are you smiling for?” I said, a tremble in my voice as I looked at him.

He didn’t respond with words. His answer was his lips pressed against mine.

He cupped his hand around the back of my head, holding me close. His tongue probed my lips and they parted for him easily, our breath mingling as I knotted my hands into his shirt. I wanted to pull him closer, hold him impossibly tighter. As if I could live in this moment, this feeling, forever.

By the time we pulled up in front of my house, I knew I didn’t want to spend the night alone. Manson walked me to the door, but as I unlocked it, I turned to him and said, “Will you stay?”

His face was in shadow, but I still saw his eyes widen. He hesitated as I stood there, the door halfway open, the cool air seeping out from inside.

“You want me to…?” he said. “To sleep here?”

“Yes. I do.” I wasn’t used to being the one to ask, opening myself up for rejection. I wouldn’t blame him if he said no. He’d be right to keep his distance.

But he took my hand. “Yeah. Of course I’ll stay.”

It was like I was a teenager again, sneaking a boy into my house when my parents weren’t home. I didn’t want to imagine how pissed off my mother would be if she ever found out about this, but she wouldn’t. What she didn’t know couldn’t anger her.