I stand up, too. I don’t know where to look, or what to do with my arms, or what to say to cut the suddenly thick tension between us. I place my hands on my hips, decide that might look too confrontational, and let them go limp by my sides.

“I didn’t mean to give you mixed messages,” I say. “But you’re right.”

“Yeah, I know,” he says coolly. “No need to figure out anything right now. But if you want to talk, you know where to find me.”

He heads toward the door and reaches for the knob.

“Eliza?” he says, turning back to look at me. “You have to slow down. Breathe. Take your time. There’s no rush.”

I try to force a smile. I wish I didn’t have a deadline hanging over my head—the soft noise of the ticking clock drowns out all other sounds. I have to wonder: if there wasn’t a reason to tie up my love life in a neat bow by October, would I be into Raj? For that matter, would I really be into Blake?

“Right, no rush,” I say softly. “Bye.”

He leaves my apartment. The front door clicks shut. I listen to the fall of his footsteps as he descends the stairs and exits the building. He’s gone. I sprawl out belly-down on the couch, reveling in the warm spot Raj left behind, and press my face into a throw pillow.

So it’s clear: I fucked up. I was right about one thing—Raj has liked me this whole time. I wasn’t imagining the crackling chemistry between us; I didn’t hallucinate the affectionate way he looks at me. But that doesn’t mean I had the right to kiss him the moment I felt alone and confused and comfortable. Raj deserves more than a girl who’s not done crying over someone else.

It’s not fair for me to kiss Raj if I can’t commit to being there for him, the way he’s been there for me. I need to work out my own shit before dragging another person into it. I’m deeply mortified that none of this occurred to me before I tried to slip my tongue into his mouth.

The ugly combination of shame, humiliation, and rejection I feel in Raj’s wake piles onto the lingering sadness, guilt, and panic I’ve carried ever since my breakup with Blake three days ago. I feel utterly and totally miserable, and it’s entirely my fault for being such an impulsive idiot. I can’t prolong my body’s natural reaction anymore. I sob big, fat tears into the pillow and let myself cry until I’m worn out.